Time and Again
by mandrake-o
Summary: This is that story that gets updated like once a year by an author who never reads reviews and can't be bothered to reread chapters before posting them. Read at your own peril.
1. Prologue

**Time and Again**

**Author's Note:** This is going to be the longest thing I've ever written/posted on this site. Expect following chapters to be longer than this one. Random character drawings I've done are at my DeviantArt account, which there is a link to in my profile... I think. This is eventually a Harry/Voldemort story so if that disturbs you, leave now because I didn't have to warn you.

This is a sixth year AU, but I've tried very hard to keep it to canon for most of the sixth book. Although the plot's a little different, most of what JKR says goes.

**Prologue**

Harry Potter's sixth year at Hogwarts was passing relatively normally so far. Hermione studied. Ron whinged. Dumbledore was being enigmatic. Malfoy was being a twat. And Harry existed. Currently, Harry was existing in potions class. He was determined to actually get a potion made correctly this time. His last two potions, despite the help of the Prince's book, Malfoy had ruined Harry's perfect potion just before Slughorn examined it. This time, Harry was certain he was going to be able to keep Malfoy as far away from his potion as possible. Harry had even gone so far as to cast a new ward that would let him and anything he was touching through to his potion, and nothing else.

Harry added the hyssop and stirred counter-clockwise once. He smiled down at the potion. Perfect. Harry called Professor Slughorn over to check his potion.

"It seems correct," Slughorn said after peering at it. "But after your last efforts, Mr Potter, I think it would be best to test it."

Harry nodded, lowering the ward so that Slughorn could take a sample. Harry watched the professor intently, needing a good grade on this potion to pass the class without doing extra credit assignments. If he hadn't been so intent upon Slughorn, Harry might have noticed that Malfoy had left his seat and dropped a lit firework and both ends of a Fainting Fancy into Harry's cauldron. But alas, Harry did not notice anything was amiss until what remained of the potion in the cauldron exploded.

Harry shouldn't have been surprised, but he was. Because of that, and the smoke, Harry tripped over his schoolbag and ended up face first in a boiling hot cauldron. His impulse to scream didn't help the situation at all, and Harry found himself burning and drowning before someone finally pulled him out of his cauldron. The potion was all over his face, so even upright Harry was still blinded. He heard Slughorn vanish the potion and finally, although painfully, Harry could open his eyes. They locked onto the brown ones of his rescuer. Eyes that made Harry's blood run cold. Eyes that looked alarmingly like they belonged to Tom Marvolo Riddle.

"Mr Riddle," said Professor Slughorn from behind Harry. "Would you care to explain this?"

Harry spun around to face the potions teacher, hoping desperately that this was all some giant hallucination. It didn't take much looking at Slughorn to realise that if it was a hallucination, he was still in it. Slughorn looked rather different from how Harry had expected him to look. He looked about fifty years younger, for starters. Harry turned back to the Riddle lookalike and realised that the students staring at him behind Riddle were not the same students he'd shared a room with a moment before.

Harry fainted.

x X X x

_October 1996_

Chaos reigned in the potions classroom once the smoke had cleared. Where Harry had been, he no longer was. Ron, always quick to his friend's defence, rounded on Malfoy who was trying very, very hard not to look guilty.

"What did you do to Harry, Malfoy?" Ron's eyes were wide with panic, he'd grabbed Malfoy's collar and was well on his way to choking the blond.

Slughorn separated them with a wave of his wand, and looked rather distressed about the whole situation. He'd lost one of his students. That had never happened before. Although, he did remember an opposite situation when a student had appeared in a cauldron. A student, come to think of it, who looked rather like Harry Potter. Slughorn went pale, unaware of the students' wariness of his silence.

"Professor Slughorn?" Hermione asked tentatively, before reaching up to tap him on the shoulder.

That simple touch broke Slughorn from his musings. "Class is dismissed," he stated.

"But what about Harry?" someone else asked.

"I'm afraid Mr Potter will not be returning to class for quite some time."

The students quickly skedaddled after that, leaving Slughorn to examine the curious ruined potion.

x X X x

A/N: So that's it for the prologue. Next chapter should be up in a day or two, depending on reviews.


	2. Evan James

**Time and Again**

**Author's Note:** I was too lazy to bother conforming to the sort of language used during the 1940s so I have theorised that some of our modern day muggle slang was actually already integrated into the wizarding world as far back as the 1940s. That said, I'd appreciate any comments about other discrepancies and will change them if it doesn't interfere with my plot.

**Chapter 1 - Evan James**

_October 1944_

When Harry woke he was staring at the familiar ceiling of the Hogwarts hospital wing. Nothing hurt, although it felt like someone was rubbing ointment on his arm. He turned his head and noticed that there was a dark haired witch touching him. That might have disturbed a boy of a similar age, but Harry was used to strange things, and just let her continue.

"Who are you?" he asked wearily. "Where's-?" Harry cut himself off as he remembered what he'd seen before passing out. "What's the date today?"

The witch looked at him cautiously, but answered his questions. "I am Nurse Fairweather and today is the fourteenth day in October."

"What year is it?" beseeched Harry, gripping the sleeve of her robe, too concerned to worry about revealing his time travel to a potential enemy. Harry wasn't completely stupid. He knew that time travel was dangerous, especially going back in time. He would have to try not to change anything so that he could return to the time he was familiar with. Harry repeated his question when the nurse didn't respond fast enough. "What year?"

"1944," she gasped.

Harry's mind processed this. It sounded feasible. Slughorn had looked about fifty years younger and Tom Riddle had been in the classroom. "Tell me I'm dreaming."

"I'm afraid not, son. Your mental health check went fine. It seems the only side effect of your run in with that cauldron is some scarring to your face and upper body." She held up the jar of ointment she'd been using on his hands. "And this will clear it right up."

Harry's hand automatically went to his forehead. The flesh felt strange beneath his fingertips. Harry wasn't sure where his old scar ended and the new ones began. His most recognisable feature was nothing more.

"Just hold still," she said, dipping her fingers into the ointment then reaching for Harry's face.

He pulled back quickly. "Uh, no. That won't be necessary. I don't mind the scarring."

The nurse looked at him as though he was the strangest person she'd ever met. Most teenage boys did care for their appearances, as much as they may have tried to deny it. "If you're sure..."

Harry nodded.

"Now then," Nurse Fairweather said. "The headmaster would like to see you."

Harry nodded, then realised he wasn't wearing anything besides a hospital gown. No underwear.

"Your robe was quite ruined by the potion, so I incinerated it." She handed him an almost identical Gryffindor robe. Still no underwear.

"Where's my wand?" asked Harry, not seeing it lying beside him.

"It was not in your robes," the witch replied.

Harry frowned. He always had his wand strapped to his wrist for easy access. If his robes had made the time jump, his wand should have too. He'd have to ask the headmaster. He pulled on his robes. Someone had some explaining to do.

"Ah, just in time," Nurse Fairweather said as someone entered the room. Harry looked up and almost fainted again at the sight of Tom Riddle calmly standing in the doorway.

"This is Tom Riddle, the head boy," the nurse introduced. "He'll escort you to the headmaster's office."

Harry frowned, and followed Tom silently out of the room.

"What's your name?" Riddle asked him.

Harry ignored the question. He had no intention of becoming friendly with Tom Marvolo Riddle. "Look, you don't have to do this. If you tell me the password I can find my way there myself."

"I need to see Dippet too," Riddle said, continuing along a corridor.

Harry frowned, looking to the left. "Isn't it faster if we go this way?" he wondered aloud, though he hadn't thought Riddle had heard him.

"That corridor is off limits," Riddle proclaimed. "There's a poltergeist locked in there."

"When have _you_ ever followed rules?" he muttered. He could handle a poltergeist. It was probably Peeves. Then he remembered that he was wandless. "Never mind."

Riddle eyed him as one would a specimen in a museum. Harry didn't like that at all. Of course even in the past Riddle would be drawn to him. What had Harry done to deserve it?

Harry set off in the direction Riddle was walking, quickly overtaking him. Harry didn't want anything to do with Tom Riddle. He ended up at the gargoyle that marked the headmaster's office, then waited impatiently for Riddle to catch up.

Riddle gave Harry another odd look before he spoke the password, "Pavo". Harry followed him up the staircase and into the office. Harry had expected that the headmaster's office would look just like Dumbledore's. He'd forgotten that Armando Dippet would be sitting behind the desk.

"Ah," the headmaster said when they entered. "Our mysterious guest is here at last." He looked at Riddle. "You may go now Mr Riddle."

"But sir," Riddle protested. "I wanted to speak with you about the Halloween Ball."

"There is no Halloween Ball." Dippet looked perplexed.

"Which is precisely why I needed to speak with you, sir." Riddle put on his most charming smile and Harry was disgusted to notice that Dippet was falling for it. It was clear to Harry that Riddle just wanted an excuse to hang around.

"Unfortunately, I have no idea how long this will take. If you'd drop by my office tomorrow at lunch I'd be happy to discuss it then."

Riddle knew when to quit arguing. "Yes sir," he said tightly. He left the room, but Harry was willing to bet he'd find some way of eavesdropping.

"I'm Headmaster Dippet," the man behind the desk introduced himself to Harry. "I am now ready to hear how you came to be at Hogwarts. In Mr Riddle's cauldron, no less."

Harry wondered how the best way to say it would be. "I never left Hogwarts," he said. "As to how I got here, your guess is as good as mine."

Dippet fixed him with a displeased look, obviously thinking that Harry was being deliberately misleading. "I think that you had best tell me everything that you do know. We'll start with an easy question. What's your name?"

Harry fidgeted. "I'm not sure that I should tell you, sir. I think I'm from the future. I wouldn't want to accidentally stop myself from being born."

Some of the displeasure faded from Dippet's look, but enough remained for Harry to be worried. What if Dippet had him arrested? "Why do you think you're from the future?"

"Well, sir, when I woke up this morning, the year wasn't 1944."

"And what year was it?" Dippet asked without humour.

"I think I should keep that to myself, sir." Harry couldn't hold Dippet's gaze, knowing that it would make him seem more like a liar, but being unable to see the condemnation in his eyes.

"If you aren't willing to divulge any information, I can't possibly believe that this isn't some trick of Grindelwald's."

Harry flinched. "I'll take Veritaserum if you promise not to ask questions that could cause problems."

"Veritaserum?" Dippet looked at him curiously. "Is that a new potion?"

Harry put his hand over his mouth. When had Veritaserum been invented? He'd never thought that his inattentiveness in Potions would actually catch up to him. Unfortunately there wasn't anything he could do about that now.

"Veritas serum," Dippet mused. "Truth serum?"

Harry could only nod glumly.

"Amazing," marvelled Dippet. "I suppose I can take your word for it. However, that is not to say that I trust you."

That was okay with Harry for now. Trust was something that had to be earned.

"When are you going back to your time?" Dippet asked.

Harry shifted in his seat. "I'm not sure, sir. I didn't intend to travel to the past."

"Whatever do you mean, boy?" Dippet looked genuinely interested. It sure beat suspicious.

"There was an accident in potions class. Someone put something in my cauldron that didn't belong."

"That is rather unfortunate. I can't say that there are any antidoes to a time potion."

"I didn't expect one, sir," Harry said, though he was dismal. He couldn't defeat Voldemort unless he was in his own time... Unless... Harry quickly shook his head to rid himself of the thought. No. He couldn't take Riddle out now, no matter how much good he thought he might do. There was no telling how much worse things could get. "Couldn't Professor Slughorn brew something?"

Dippet looked horrified by the thought. "There would be no way of testing such a potion. It would most certainly be a waste of time that would take Professor Slughorn from his normal duties. With any luck, the potion will wear off eventually. There are few potions which last forever."

Harry bit his lip. If he wasn't a sixteen-year-old boy keen on keeping up appearances, he would have cried right there and then. He might never get to return to his own time. He might never see his friends again. "So what am I supposed to do?"

"Well, you can't leave Hogwarts. That would be much too dangerous. I'm afraid you'll have to stay here, out of the outside world's eye." He paused for a second. "I see you're wearing Gryffindor robes. The castle will make room for you in the doms. You can take classes for the duration of your stay here."

Harry only nodded. The last thing he really wanted to do was take classes. He'd rather spend his time in the library researching. "But the potion might wear off?"

"Perhaps. There is no way of knowing what you and your classmate concocted."

Harry frowned, tired of this conversation. He just wanted to sleep and wake up back in his old bed in Gryffindor tower. That would be the best thing at this moment. "Can I go now?"

"Would you like to invent a name for yourself? I'll have to explain your situation to the staff."

Harry thought a moment. He was going to start a new life because he didn't know how long he would be here. He needed a name that would celebrate the old Harry and look to the new. He looked at the portraits of headmasters past for inspiration. "Evan," he said, after his mother. "Evan James."

Professor Dippet nodded. "Very well, then."

"Professor," Harry said, remembering. "I left my wand in the future, and I don't have any other things either."

"The house elves will provide clothing and school supplies," stated Dippet. "As for your wand, I think we'll wait and see if I can trust you first."

Harry frowned. He hated being treated like a criminal, but he understood where Dippet was coming from. He hadn't slid back in time to a warless world. This wizarding world was also being devastated by a Dark Lord, even as it raised another. It made Harry wonder if there was even any point in defeating Voldemort. Just like now, in Hogwarts, a student could be waiting to take Voldemort's place.

Harry must have looked especially lost because the headmaster called for a house elf. "Have Elise Prewett sent here, please," he told it. Then he turned to explain to Harry. "Miss Prewett is a Gryffindor prefect. She'll help you reacquaint yourself with the building. Which reminds me, boy. What year are you in?"

"Sixth, sir," Harry replied.

"And which courses are you taking?"

Harry checked them off on his fingers. "Defence Agains the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, Potions of course, Charms, Astronomy, History of Magic."

"Just the basics, then," Dippet noted on a piece of parchment. "i'll see that the necessary teachers expect you. You may join classes tomorrow." He slid the piece of parchment toward Harry, who realised that it had become his class schedule.

"Thank you sir," said Harry, feeling anything but.

"You're dismissed. Please wait outside for Miss Prewett."

Harry nodded and left Dippet's office.

x X X x

_October 1996_

"It doesn't make any sense," Hermione ranted. Currently she and Ron were sitting in the library, feeling like a two-legged stool. "The firework made the potion explode on all sorts of things, but only Harry ended up disappearing."

"Harry did fall into the cauldron," Ron stated. "I guess you need to be fully immersed?"

"Harry wasn't fully immersed. He can't even fit inside his cauldron."

"Then not immersed," Ron said. "Just more."

"Then I hope Slughorn kept the whole cauldron," Hermione stated, a spark of something in her eyes.

Ron didn't like the look of it. "Hermione, what are you thinking?"

Hermione stood, quickly gathering everything that was on the desk into her bookbag. "I'm going to wherever Harry is."

Alarmed, Ron followed her immediately. "Hermione, that's crazy!"

She was out through the library doors in the next moment.

"Harry was my friend just as much as he was yours, but to go after him to who knows where is the stupidest thing you've ever thought of."

Hermione rounded on Ron instantly, leaving him gulping and wondering what he'd said that was so stupid this time. "_Was_, Ronald? Harry _was_ your friend? You've already given up on him? I can't believe you."

Ron paled. "Hermione that's not what I meant."

She crossed her arms over her chest. "It sure sounded like that's what you meant."

"Look," Ron said, as he scrambled for anything to say to stop Hermione from doing something incredibly stupid. "This isn't like you, Hermione. Harry's disappearance is clouding your judgment. You have to think things through."

"Harry would never think things through if we were in danger. Remember the Third Task?"

"You're not Harry, Hermione. You're Hermione. You do think things through. And if we have to follow Harry to wherever it is that he is, let's at least work out where that is first."

"You're right, Ron," Hermione said, deflating and staring out a nearby window. We need to know where Harry is first."

Ron put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "It'll be alright, Hermione. You'll see."

"I hope so," she murmured, wondering where out there Harry had gone. Secretly, she too wondered if maybe this was all false hope. Maybe Harry really was gone forever.

x X X x

A/N: I apologise for my lack of imagination regarding Harry's name. Next chapter should be up in a day or two.


	3. Initiation Time

**Time and Again**

**Author's Note:** This chapter is long because otherwise nothing would have happened, but I thought it important that a few characters were introduced. Sorry for any typos, I just wanted to get it up for you.

**Chapter 2 - Initiation Time  
**

_October 1944_

Tom Riddle was waiting for Harry outside the entrance to the Headmaster's office. Harry wasn't at all surprised to see him there. Voldemort always seemed to find him if they were in the same building, why would Riddle be any different?

"You're not from around here, are you?" commented Riddle.

Harry ignored him, wishing that the Prewett girl would show up.

His actions made Riddle bristle like a cat. "I'm talking to you," he hissed, getting into Harry's face.

Harry found that he wasn't at all disturbed by having the other boy in such close proximity to himself. It helped him keep his cool façade up. It was almost enjoyable being so close, actually. If Riddle was his older self, Harry's scar would have been bleeding, not to mention the pain that came with that... Harry felt oddly empowered, standing eye to eye with Riddle as he was. The head boy was slightly taller than Harry, but they were of similar build and Harry knew for sure that this Riddle he could stand up to. Voldemort, on the other hand, Harry would never be able to look at the same way.

"I don't care," said Harry, pushing Riddle to take a step back easily. "Get out of my face."

Riddle blinked, reassessing Harry and going with a different strategy. He stood straighter and flashed Harry a charming smile that would have disarmed him if he wasn't already aware of what a master manipulator Riddle was. "I'm sorry," he said. "I'm afraid we've gotten off on the wrong foot. I'm Tom Riddle, Head Boy." He managed to speak his title with the same level of pomposity Percy Weasley had always used. It unnerved Harry to think that maybe Percy would be the next dark lord. Harry shuddered.

Riddle noted that reaction with a look of curiosity, as though observing a chess board, or jigsaw puzzle before selecting the next piece to place.

A brown haired girl, who looked a little like Hermione in Harry's opinion, approached them. "Excuse me, Riddle," she said. "Dippet wants to see me."

"No need, Prewett," Riddle said with a flirtatious grin that made her blush. "Dippet wants you to show the new kid around."

That settled it. Riddle _had_ been eavesdropping.

The Prewett girl peered past Riddle and stared at Harry. "I'm Elise," she said with a smile. "It's nice to meet you." She stuck out a hand, offering a handshake.

"I'm H- Evan James," said Harry, hoping that Riddle hadn't caught his slip. He smiled at her and shook her hand.

"You sound like you're English," she commented. "Most of the new students these days are from the continent. Were you home schooled?"

"Yes," Harry lied smoothly for once in his life. "My parents were starting to get a little antsy about the war. Thought it might be safer for me here."

"Well I'm glad you're here," Elise smiled at him.

Harry smiled back.

Riddle hissed suddenly, his eyes narrowing into slits. Harry knew that look. It often preceded a murderous rampage of some kind. If there had been any doubt in Harry's mind that Tom Marvolo Riddle would become Voldemort, it was gone now. It was strange, Harry mused. To not have that stare fixed on him. Instead it was fixed on Elise.

"That's enough, Prewett," Riddle snapped. "I think I'll take Evan here on a tour myself."

Elise shrank back at the look. She nodded, then skittered off quickly in the same direction she'd come from.

Harry shot a glare at Riddle, beginning to stalk off in the same direction. "Thanks for nothing."

Riddle's look darkened. Harry hadn't known it was possible. "She's not worth your time," Riddle spat.

Harry rolled his eyes. "I didn't get the password for the tower."

"Is that all?" Riddle sounded strangely relieved. "I know all the passwords. Just one of the perks of being head boy." His entire body seemed to swell with pride.

Harry's eyes rolled again before he could stop them. If he spent any more time at all around Riddle they were going to fall out of his head. "Spit it out then."

"Nuh-uh," Riddle shook his finger like a child imitating his mother. "You've got to do something for me, first."

"And that," sighed Harry. "Is why Dippet didn't ask you to show me around." Harry walked away. Someone else would tell him the password. He couldn't believe that Riddle was just letting him go. Of course, Riddle didn't have the same reasons to hate him that Voldemort did. Harry mentally slapped himself. Riddle and Voldemort were the same person. If he grew too close to Riddle, he'd never be able to do what he had to do to Voldemort. _Either must die at the hand of the other..._

Harry couldn't allow himself to get distracted, no matter what his current circumstances were.

x x x

A first year let Harry into the Gryffindor common room easily enough. She probably hadn't been at school long enough to recognise that Harry was new. The robe was enough to ensure him access. Harry encounetered Elise sitting in one of the common room armchairs talking to some other girls. She looked up when she heard the Fat Lady's portrait swing open.

"Evan?" she seemed surprised.

Harry was momentarily confused before he remembered his adopted name. He approached and smiled at her.

"Did Riddle not give you a tour?" she asked. Elise's friends twittered behind her at the name.

Harry shook his head. "Didn't need one."

Elise frowned. "You didn't upset him, did you? He's always a nightmare when he doesn't get his way. As much as he tries to disguise it."

"What a spoilt brat," commented Harry, at the same time knowing that Riddle, like himself, had been anything but spoilt before he got to Hogwarts.

"Trust me," Elise assured him. "Riddle's anything but."

The friend sitting closest to Elise frowned. "Enough about Riddle. Introduce us, Lise."

"Uh, right." Elise blushed. "That's Myra," she pointed at the girl who'd just spoken. "Calandra." A blonde with her hair in a braid that came halfway down her back. "And Steph." Brown-haired, brown-eyed, and brown-skinned. "He's Evan James. He's new."

"How'd you get the burns on your face?" asked Myra rather rudely.

"I fell into a cauldron." He was glad that his new scars were the result of something normal that everyone could understand and eventually get over. No one ever got over seeing the scar that signified that he'd survived the Killing Curse. Yet another reason to be thankful for the potion burns.

"Oh," Calandra realised. "You're the boy who appeared in Riddle's potion this morning."

"Yeah," Harry said. He certainly couldn't deny it. "Dodgy portkey."

The girls nodded in understanding.

"It would be so much easier if we could just apparate here."

"Are you in our year?" Steph asked, more polite than her friend.

"I'm in sixth," Harry answered.

"Yeah," nodded Steph.

A brown-haired boy who reminded Harry of Remus Lupin approached the group. "Hey ladies," he greeted. "What's going on over here?"

"Caspian, this is Evan. He'll be sharing your dorm," Elise informed him.

Caspian evaluated Harry with a glance. Apparently he passed because he slapped Harry on the back in a friendly manner and declared, "Welcome to the club."

"Club?" questioned Harry.

The girls rolled their eyes behind Caspian.

"Yes sir," Caspian said, draping an arm around Harry's shoulders to steer him toward the dormitory stairs. "Come on, it's initiation time."

The girls gave Harry pitying looks, but Harry was kind of intrigued. What did these boys get up to? And despite the fact that he was so far from his own time that he couldn't even send an owl, Harry wanted to belong to this group of boys he'd never met.

x x x

The sixth year boys dorm was almost exactly the same as the one Harry had woken up in that morning. Harry was coming to find that everything in Hogwarts was like that. So close that he could almost forget. There were, however, more beds in the room than Harry ahd expected to see. Gryffindor dorms always held five students. Harry had thought that there would be five in the room he was taking, and perhaps an extra bed for him. Instead, there were already six boys and eight beds in the room when Harry and Caspian arrived.

"We have a new boy," Caspian announced, pushing Harry ahead of him with a hand on his shoulder. The other boys quickly ceased their chatter. Then they gave simultaneous smirks. That did not bode well for Harry.

"What happened to your face?" one of the boys burst out immediately. His hair was so red that Harry wondered if he was a Weasley.

Harry almost thought it was amusing.

Another boy slapped the first on the back. "Duh, he's the one that fell into Riddle's cauldron."

A third boy distracts. "Where are you from?" He has hair of dark blond and a French accent.

"Uh, Surrey," responded Harry. It was certainly true.

"So you're not an evacuee?" a dark haired boy with an Irish accent asked.

Harry shook his head. "I was homeschooled. My parents thought it might be safer here."

"Right," Caspian said, re-establishing himself as the navigator of the conversation. "This here's Evan." He turned to Harry. "Evan what?"

"James," responded Harry.

"Muggleborn?" asked the redhead who might have been a Weasley.

"No," Harry frowned.

The boy beside the redhead hit him- hard. "He just said he was homeschooled."

"Maybe he was muggle-schooled," the redhead defended himself. "Only they use that word."

The boy beside him hit him again. "I resent that."

"I'm half-blodded, actually," said Harry, knowing that James wasn't a pureblooded last name. "My dad was muggleborn, my mum was a witch." Harry wondered what opinions on blood purity were at this time, but the other boys didn't seem to think anything of it.

"Right," said Caspian. "Initiation time."

The other boys laughed. "I'm glad I'm not you," a brunet spoke for the first time.

"What is the initiation?" asked Harry.

"All in good time, Evan my boy," Caspian stated. "First, a little history lesson."

The other boys groaned. "Can't we skip it?" another blond asked.

"Of course not," said Caspian. "It's tradition. Go on then, Red."

The redheaded boy waved his wand and the lights dimmed.

A voice was heard behind Harry's shoulder. "Five years and two months ago," it spoke, sounding rather a lot like Professor Binns. "Five young boys set foot in Hogwarts for the first time." White spotlights appeared from somewhere, highlighting Caspian, the redhead, the boy who kept hitting him, the Irish boy, and the second, non-French blond. "They formed an unbreakable bond, one so strong that it meant they would never be friendly with another soul."

Thunder rumbled ominously, accompanied by flashes that were supposed to be lightning.

"Three years later, an intruder appeared." The lightning stopped, and a sixth spotlight, this time red in colour, appeared over the head of the only boy who hadn't spoken yet. "He came from another country, and he didn't speak a word of English. The original five were unsure about him. The intruder deserved a chance to become their friend, but the five could not trust him.

"Then one of them had a great idea." Caspian mimed thinking by tapping his chin, then raised a finger as though to say, 'Eureka!'. "The new boy would have to undergo a series of trials, one set by each of the old boys. If he completed them within a week, they would consider him part of the group. If he failed, he would be cast aside, never to belong.

"The new boy passed." His spotlight changed colour, to be the same as the other five. "And the six friends were happy for a time. Before long, a new member approached them." A red spotlight appeared over the French blond. "He was presented with six trials, and succeeded, garnering him the friendship of the earlier six." The red spotlight became white to. "Peace was restored to the tribe.

"Now," Harry blinked as a spotlight appeared over his own head. "One more boy seeks to enter the fold. Will he succeed? Will he fail? Only time will tell."

"Okay," Caspian said as the lights came back on, and Harry found himself blinking to readjust to the light. When his vision was clear again, Harry noted that the other boys seemed rather more serious about the whole thing. "The rules of the initiation. Each of us gives you a task. You have until the weekend to complete them all, without letting anyone know about the inititation rites. If you succeed, your bed will get its curtains back, and you'll be one of us." Harry hadn't noticed earlier, but the bed farthest from him was missing its curtains. He guessed the reward for trust earnt was privacy. "Do you have any questions before we begin?"

"How come he got a full week and I only get a day and a half?" Harry asked, pointing at the silent boy.

"We thought it was too easy," Caspian said, flippant.

"Plus, we're bored," added the dark haired on.

"Is that all?" Caspian asked Harry.

Harry nodded.

They all turned to the blond French boy who began the task recitation. "The trait that I value most is resourcefulness. To prove that you have it, you must discover the full names of every boy in this room without asking another person."

That didn't seem too hard, thought Harry. The other boys seemed to agree. The French boy only looked at them knowingly.

The previously silent boy spoke next, in a thick Bulgarian accent that reminded Harry of Viktor Krum. "The trait that I value most is humility. To prove that you have it, you must clean up all four house tables after breakfast, by yourself, without the use of magic."

That was also achievable in Harry's opinion. As long as the house elves didn't get there first.

Next to speak was the other blond. "The trait that I value most is loyalty. To prove that you have it, you must undergo any punishments that any boy in this room is given for the duration of the initiation period."

That could get quite hairy if the boys worked against him. Judging by the look the blond and darkest-haired boys shared, he couldn't count on them.

"The trait that I value most is cunning. To prove that you have it, you must convince every sixth year Gryffindor girl of a lie of your choosing. Before your initiation is over, you must also tell them that you lied to them, and earn their trust back," said the Irish boy.

Now that would be harder to accomplish. "How many Gryffindor girls are there?" asked Harry.

Caspian looked a little put out at his ceremony being interrupted, but answered anyway. "Eight. You evened us out."

It was the violent, darkest-haired boy's turn next. "The trait that I value most is fortitude. To prove that you have it, you must spend a night in the first floor girls' bathroom."

The rest of the boy snickered at that one. Unbeknownst to them, Harry knew exactly why they thought it might be difficult.

"The trait that I value most is integrity. To prove that you have it, you must contradict every single thing Olive Hornby says during a conversation with her," said the maybe-Weasley.

"Olive Hornby?" The name rang a bell, but Harry didn't quite remember who she was, or where he'd heard that name before.

"I'll point her out to you," the redhead said.

"And finally," Caspian said. "The trait I value most is courage. To prove that you have it, you must steal back my prefect badge from Tom Riddle."

Great, thought Harry. He really had wanted to avoid another confrontation with the boy. Though perhaps Harry could steal it away. "Why does he have your prefect badge?"

Caspian shrugged. "Because he's a jerk."

"He caught Casp and Scarlett Jones snogging in a corridor after hours. But prefects aren't allowed to take points from each other, so he just took their badges," explained the Irish boy.

"How do you even know if he still has it?" asked Harry.

"It's Riddle," said Caspian. "He enjoys keeping other people's things."

"Plus," the Irish boy added. "He pins it on the inside of his robe to tease Casp with sometimes. I think he's sweet on him."

"Devon!" Caspian reprimanded. "You just made it easier for him!"

"And _you_ just made it easier for him to do _my_ task," said the Frenceh boy.

"Your idea was stupid anyway," countered Caspian. "_Etienne_."

The French boy, Etienne, leapt on Caspian, getting him right in the face. The rest of the boys stepped back to watch Etienne and Caspian settle their differences in the way that only best friends could. Harry sighed. It was all well and good for them. They didn't have to accomplish some ridiculous things in the next day.

x X X x

_October 19_96

Ron and Hermione arrived at the Gryffindor table just in time for Dumbledore to make an announcement.

"If I could have your attention everyone," he said.

The Great Hall immediately quietened. Most of the school by now, had heard of Harry's disappearance. Everyone wanted to know what Dumbledore had to say about it.

"I know you must have heard some conflicting reports about what happened this morning to Harry Potter. Rest assured we are aware that he is safe and well, receiving special training in a secure location. Please do not attempt to contact him, he won't be receiving any owls. Do not be alarmed. Although his exit was abrupt, I know that he will be back with us before long. Thank you." Dumbledore sat back down and the Great Hall erupted.

"That's a lie," Hermione whispered to Ron. "Dumbledore can't have any idea where Harry is."

Ron looked around the room. "Do you think anyone else is falling for it?"

Everywhere Hermione looked she only saw people huddled much as they were, whispering. "I don't think so," Hermione said. "But no one's going to get anything other than that story out of any of the teachers."

"Dumbledore isn't worried, Hermione," Ron said. "Maybe we don't need to worry either. Maybe all we need to worry about is the first potions practical. And with the Prince's help, we won't even need to worry about that."

A light went off in Hermione's eyes again. Ron did not like it one bit.

"Whatever you're thinking Hermione, no."

"It's that stupid book!" Hermione hissed to him. "It probably wasn't anything that Malfoy did. And even if it was, if they're trying to work out what that potion is, they need to know what Harry did. And he would have done exactly what that book told him to do. We have to tell Dumbledore. And Slughorn."

"No!" Ron exclaimed.

Hermione frowned at him. "Could you stop worrying about grades and getting into trouble and think about Harry for once?"

Ron goggled at her. Was she even listening to herself? When had they switched places? "Fine," Ron grumbled. "Can we at least eat dinner first?"

Hermione rolled her eyes and started piling potatoes onto her plate. Ron took that to mean yes.

x X X x

A/N: If at any point during this story you feel that I am updating too slowly, feel free to follow me on Twitter and bug me for updates.


	4. Success and Failure

**Time and Again**

**Author's Note:** To everyone who's reviewed this story I want to say thank you. Seriously, I think these are the best reviews for a story I've ever gotten. Not that I didn't get nice ones for the other stories, just that yours are better. I especially want to thank EvilAngelofHeavenandHell for giving me an idea and complaining that the chapters were too short (though this chapter is still short... after all, the only true way to get rid of the vicious cycle is to post everything in one go and already haven't).

And, just in case you're confused by the lack of dormmates names, they're generally referred to as: Caspian, the French boy (or Etienne), the Bulgarian (or the silent one), the redhead (or Weasley), the Irish boy (Devon), the blond (who is English, though Etienne and Caspian are also blond), and the dark haired one... I should put pictures up.

**Chapter 3 - Success and Failure**

_October 1944_

By dinnertime that first night, Harry had already made a start on the dares. He'd managed to convince Elise and her friends that he had an entire chocolate frog card collection at home (the Irish boy was going to be irritated that he hadn't specified a ridiculous lie). He hadn't yet found out any more names, but with the number of pure-blooded siblings the red-headed boy had, he had to be a Weasley. None of his dormmates had managed to get into any trouble that required punishing, but that seemed likely to change if the Irishman Devon's and blond's faces were anything to go by. They both seemed to be piling rather too much food onto their plates.

Harry's predictions came true when the blond took aim at a Hufflepuff boy and hit him smack on the back of his head with a spoonful of mashed potatoes. Not to be outdone, the Irish boy aimed his spoonful at a Ravenclaw girl, getting her right between the eyes. It wasn't long before food was flying everywhere. Harry took refuge under the table with the Bulgarian boy. "Why do I get the feeling they've had a lot of practise at this?"

Staying true to his character, the Bulgarian boy did not respond. Harry wondered if it was because he had trouble understanding and speaking English or if he truly had no thoughts he wished to air.

The food fight only lasted a moment before the teachers broke it up, after which came the punishment immediately. Harry had expected something like cleaning up the entire mess without magic, but it seemed that corporal punishment was still in place. Devon and the blond each received five slaps to the bare arse with a paddle, in front of the whole school. They pretended to be sufficiently chastised, but when the teachers looked away, they smirked at Harry as though to say, 'You're next'.

Harry had never been spanked before. The Dursleys had never laid a finger on him, besides Dudley (and Harry suspected that any boys of similar age living in the same house will end up in a fight at some point in their lives). Harry was always punished by being locked in his cupboard with no food or water. Mr And Mrs Dursley preferred not to see Harry and that was the fastest way to get rid of him. As a result, he was quite nervous about the punishment, but knew better than to admit this to the other boys.

"Drop your pants," the blond ordered.

Harry complied, bracing himself on a bed. The boys couldn't find or transfigure a paddle, so instead pulled a wooden ruler out of someone's trunk. Harry tensed his buttocks in anticipation.

"It hurts less if you relax," Caspian advised in a friendly manner. It was clear that he didn't really approve of the task that had been set for Harry.

Harry did manage to relax, but after the first smack of the ruler he tensed up again. It hurt. It wasn't as bad as the Cruciatus, but it stung. The blond and the Irish boy took turns abusing his flesh and made sure to surprise him with each stroke, while the rest of their dormmates looked on. Harry tried not to feel humiliated as he hadn't done anything wrong. In the back of his mind he wondered if he actually did want to be friends with boys who would do this to a friend.

After the third or fourth stroke, Harry came to a startling realisation that was reinforced with each subsequent spank. The process was turning him on. Something about the sting followed by the coolness of the air was pleasurable. It was absurd. He couldn't believe himself. How could he be growing harder with every whack? In vain, Harry tried to will his erection away, but he was a teenage boy, he had very little control as it was. The best Harry could hope for was that they didn't notice before he could get away.

When the punishment was over, Harry was quick to zip up his pants and drag the sheets from his bed, holding them in front of himself.

"What are you doing?" asked Devon.

"Going to sleep in the bathroom, remember?" Harry tried not to twinge as he realised that one of the smacks of the ruler had split the flesh of his arse.

The boys smirked.

"Sit down James," Caspian said. "We've got to tell you a story first."

"Let me, Casp," the dark haired boy said. "It was my idea."

"Fine," Caspian agreed.

Harry did not sit down, not wanting his bruised flesh to be further irritated. He laid down on his bed on his stomach glad that it also served to hide his waning erection. The blond mimicked his position on his own bed, Devon remained standing, and the rest of the boys sat on the bed in the middle as though to rub in the fact that they could sit.

"A year and a half ago, the Chamber of Secrets was opened," the dark haired boy began.

"You're not telling it right," interrupted the possibly-Weasley. "He doesn't know what the Chamber of Secrets is."

"I was getting to that," the boy protested.

Harry rolled his eyes, he'd heard it all before and knew perfectly well why they thought that staying the night in Myrtle's bathroom would be a test. Harry was more concerned about having to sleep on a cold, hard, most likely wet floor and the annoyance of Myrtle floating in and out. And then there was the pain of his arse that made it that much worse. Thankfully, Riddle was unlikely to return now that he'd successfully framed Hagrid for Myrtle's murder.

While the dark-haired boy continued to speak, Harry tried to think of a way to get Caspian's badge off Tom Riddle. He was supposed to be proving he had courage, so maybe it would be okay if he just asked for it. If Riddle beat him up because of it then surely Caspian would be satisfied.

Harry thought about the other tasks he'd have to fulfil. It was getting late, so he'd leave the rest of the name gathering tomorrow, he thought. The lie he'd correct tomorrow. Same with Olive Hornby. That just left the breakfast chore. Harry would have to stop by the kitchens before going to see Myrtle and convince the house elves to let him clean up the entire great hall by himself at breakfast tomorrow. That would be the hardest part of that particular challenge.

"Are you even listening?" the dark-haired boy demanded.

"Er, yes?" Harry said ineloquently.

Caspian laughed. "Well, don't say we didn't warn you."

"Okay," Harry said, standing and lifting his blankets. "I'll see you boys tomorrow."

"If you're lucky," the dark haired one taunted.

And off Harry went, wishing he had his usual sneaking out after curfew tools of the trade. He'd never really appreciated how difficult it was for other students to sneak out before. At least the caretaker didn't have a Mrs Norris to help him catch students out after hours.

x x x

Harry's first stop was the kitchens, where, as Harry had suspected, the house elves would not stop their cleaning of the Great Hall just because he asked them to. Sadly, Dobby was not able to work as his liaison in the kitchen.

"But if I asked you for food right now you'd get it for me, wouldn't you?" Harry asked the head elf.

That elf nodded vigorously. "Bubby will get master lots of nice things to eat."

"And what if I wanted a lot of food?" persisted Harry.

"Other elves is helping Bubby."

"Well," said Harry. "I want you to make a lot of sweets for everyone in the castle. All their favourite things."

"Right away!" Bubby chirped.

"Wait," said Harry. "I want you to make and deliver them straight after breakfast. As dessert. That means you won't clear the tables until everybody has finished eating their sweets, no matter where they are in the castle."

"Yes sir!" Bubby agreed immediately. He started to walk away, then asked a question. "What is being master's favourite sweet?"

Harry thought for a moment and said. "Lemon bars."

Bubby looked confused. "Lemon bars?"

"Shortbread and lemon curd, with sugar on top," Harry stated. Then realised that perhaps he shouldn't have said anything.

"Bubby is making lemon bars for the very first time!" The elf seemed quite excited by the concept.

Harry tried to stop him, but Bubby was off in a flurry of other house elfs and Harry had to give it up. If he wasn't at Myrtle's bathroom soon, the other boys would probably say it wasn't a full night.

x X X x

_October 1996_

Hermione and Ron ended up in Dumbledore's office, interrupting a conversation he'd been having with Snape and Slughorn. A conversation that they were sure concerned Harry, but that they knew they were not going to hear a single word of.

"Yes Miss Granger? Mr Weasley?" Dumbledore asked.

"It's about that potion Harry brewed," Hermione stated, before looking meaningfully at Ron who was holding the Prince's book.

"What of it?" inquired Dumbledore.

"Well," said Hermione, still looking at Ron out of the corner of her eye. "Am I right in assuming that you've tried to reverse engineer it to find a way to bring Harry back?"

Snape sneered. "I suppose you've saved us the trouble? Hermione Granger, here to save the day," he drawled.

Hermione flushed.

Slughorn ignored that, but turned to Ron. "I don't suppose you've your brothers' formula for the pill that Malfoy threw in, do you?"

Ron shook his head. Hermione mentally cursed herself for not thinking of writing a letter to Fred and George. "I'm sure they'd help if they knew the situation," she covered quickly.

"There's no need," stated Dumbledore.

"Why?" asked Hermione. "Do you already know what the potion is?"

"We are aware of some of the effects of the potion," said Dumbledore. "And that it would render all efforts to concoct an antidote useless."

"So he's dead, then?" Ron blanched. His best friend was gone. Just like that. They'd all seen him go and couldn't even say goodbye.

"Nothing like that," Dumbledore responded. "I did say that he was perfectly fine, at dinnertime."

"You can't know that, sir," Hermione protested.

"Look at her," Snape put in. "She presumes to know everything."

"You could be kinder, Severus," Dumbledore gently reprimanded. "She has lost her best friend."

"Forgive me for thinking that we had more important things to discuss than appeasing students who should be in their beds."

Ron couldn't help muttering, "It's only half eight. Who would be in bed?" The utterance was quickly followed by an image in his mind of Snape in his pyjamas as a sixth year, already curled up in bed at this time. He smirked and suppressed a snigger as the other occupants of the room gave him condescending looks.

"Let me tell you a story," Dumbledore said, ignoring the apparent urgency of whatever conversation he'd been having with Snape previously. He seemed to be avoiding the topic, actually.

A pair of matching chairs appeared between Snape's and Slughorn's, so the two Gryffindors sat.

"About fifty years ago, I was at Hogwarts in the capacity of Transfiguration teacher. I must admit that in the lead up to my defeat of Grindelwald, I paid little attention to my students."

That surprised Hermione. Dumbledore had always seemed so infallible before, capable of being both Headmaster of Hogwarts and the leader of the Order of the Phoenix.

"One day," Dumbledore continued. "Armando Dippet, who was the headmaster at the time," Dumbledore spared a glance toward Dippet's portrait where he was sleeping soundly. The headmistress beside him looked as though she wanted to poke him awake. "Informed me that a teenage boy had appeared in the potions classroom, claiming to be from the future. Armando did not believe him, and rather thought he might be one of Grindelwald's agents. After having the boy in one of my classes, I was certain that it could not be the case. It did not seem like the sort of thing that Gellert was likely to do."

Ron was confused. "What does this have to do with anything?"

Hermione shushed him, she was becoming engrossed in the story.

"That boy styled himself Evan James."

Ron and Hermione shared a look.

"So you're saying that Harry's in the past?" Hermione frowned.

"Yes," stated Dumbledore. "So you see, even if we did have the ingredients and the procedure for the potion that was concocted, an antidote would be an impossibility as there would be no way for Harry to take the potion."

"Oh." Ron looked down at the book he was holding. "So I guess you don't need to see the book, then?"

Hermione turned on him instantly, snapping the book from him and showing it to Dumbledore. "Professor Slughorn gave Harry this book and it's full of writing. It has alternate instructions and Harry always follows them. We thought you'd want to see if he'd actually made the right potion."

"What book?" Snape was suspicious, striding forward to take the tome from Dumbledore and flick through the pages. "This is my old potions book." He turned to argue with Slughorn while Ron paled.

"Snape's the Prince?" It was shocking to realise that the student he'd so idolised was the teacher he most despised.

"So the potion he made would still be the potion?" asked Hermione, bringing the conversation back to Harry.

"Of course," Snape snapped.

"Are you sure Harry's coming back?" Hermione asked Dumbledore this time. "Or is he around here somewhere, an old man who's going to turn up any day now?"

"As I recall," Dumbledore stated. "Evan James stayed little longer than a year, isn't that right, Horace?"

"Yes," stated Slughorn. "At first we thought he'd gone chasing after that boyfriend of his, but the fellow had no idea." Slughorn's face went pale as the implications of what had happened in the past hit him. He tried to cover up with, "With no where else for him to have gone we always assumed he'd gone back to his own time."

"Boyfriend?" repeated Ron.

"Just a friend," Dumbledore amended.

Even Ron knew that he was trying to cover something up. "Harry's gay?" he muttered mostly to himself, knowing that even Hermione wouldn't care in the face of a mysterious time travel potion.

"Weren't you expecting that Harry would travel back in time?" Hermione said. "Couldn't you have warned him?"

"I must admit that Grindelwald's defeat and imprisonment, then Voldemort's uprising rather distracted me from the situation," Dumbledore stated, then looked to Slughorn for his excuse.

"I never much liked the boy," Slughorn admitted. "The potion did entertain me for a while, but I abandoned the quest for it when I realised that there was no way to determine when the taker would be sent back in time."

"As for not noticing Harry immediately," said Dumbledore. "Evan James had a large amount of scarring across his face, which marred his features."

Ron and Hermione were surprised. "How did that happen?" asked Ron.

"You try falling into a boiling potion and see where that leads you," Slughorn said.

"It would depend on the potion," Hermione remarked.

Slughorn smiled. "Very astute."

"But there were cures for burns back then, weren't there?" Hermione continued.

"I imagine that Harry did not wish to be healed specifically so that he would not be recognised."

Hermione nodded. "He especially wouldn't want Voldemort to notice him."

"I wouldn't have thought of that," said Ron.

"You're lucky you're not him," Hermione retorted.

"So what happens to Harry while he's in the past?" asked Ron, ignoring Hermione's comment.

"I'm not sure about the finer details," said Dumbledore. "As I mentioned I was focused on Grindelwald and not even a boy from the future could tempt me away. I imagine he behaved rather in the same way he does here, making friends with the other Gryffindor boys and being a mediocre student."

Ron couldn't help but think that Dumbledore was stalling. There was something that the adults weren't telling him and Hermione. It scared him to imagine what it was that they would not say. "So Harry's going to be gone for a year?"

"Temporal magic is rather under-researched. There aren't many ways of testing any spells or potions. As Harry was not returned to the time of his departure, I think it rather likely."

"So long as he hasn't ended up in another universe," Ron put in with a frown.

"Unfortunately, that may be so. At least for the moment he is safe from Voldemort."

Hermione was deep in thought. Ron wondered if perhaps she'd figured out what the adults hadn't wanted them to know. Hoping that was the case, he began to excuse himself. Hermione followed, and though Ron tried, he couldn't hear what the adults were discussing now that they'd left.

"I hope," said Ron. "That you have more of an idea about what happened than I do."

x X X x

A/N: Sorry about the wait. I'd make excuses, but I doubt you want to hear them. Hopefully the next one will be up in a more timely fashion. I have no idea how I managed to post daily on 'The Harm in Trying'.


	5. Echoes

**Time and Again**

**Author's Note: **Here it is, not too long after. Thanks for the reviews.

**Chapter 4 - Echoes**

_October 1944_

On his way up the stairs to the bathroom, Harry had the misfortune of running into Tom Riddle again. If it were up to him, Tom Riddle would never become Voldemort and Harry would never run into him ever again. Unfortunately, whatever he changed might also result in Harry not being born. And while that might be better for a lot of people, Harry wasn't so self-sacrificing. Especially not when he knew it was wrong to tamper with time. The very idea of purposely setting out to change anything terrified Harry. He was only sixteen, he didn't know what would be best for the universe. He just wanted to go home.

"How was your first day so far?" asked Riddle.

Harry couldn't ignore him. They were halfway up a staircase, it would look completely obvious. Not to mention Riddle was blocking the entire passageway. "It's been okay," Harry responded, taking the time to see if he could see where Caspian's prefect badge was pinned to his robes. Harry reasoned that he'd probably have to get Riddle to take off his robe somehow.

"Then why," asked Riddle. "Are you carrying your bedding around after curfew?"

Harry checked the nearest clock for the time. Convincing house elves had taken longer than he had expected. "That's none of your business."

Riddle seemed to grown in size, taking a step down, closer to Harry. Riddle wasn't much taller than Harry (though being one step up helped), or any more muscular, but having him so close caused Harry's heart to beat erratically. "I'm Head Boy," Riddle proclaimed. "You should be back in your dorm. Either you go back immediately, or I'll take points and then make sure you end up back there."

Harry shivered.

"Are you afraid of me?" Riddle couldn't step closer, but he leaned down so that his face was centimetres from Harry's.

"No," Harry responded, willing himself to not take a step backward. He refused to be intimidated by Riddle. Especially by a Riddle who didn't have a wand trained on him.

"Then why is your heart beating so fast?" Riddle put a hand on Harry's chest to emphasise the point.

Harry shivered again. He wasn't scared. He and Riddle were on a level playing field. There was no reason to be afraid. Harry could feel the coldness of Riddle's fingers even through his school jumper. But this situation would give Harry the perfect opportunity to find Caspian's badge beneath Riddle's robes. Harry wished that didn't sound so dirty in his head.

"No faster than yours," he said, sliding a hand between Riddle's shirt and robes, feeling the extra badge with his opisthenar. Now if only Harry could distract him somehow, then realised that Riddle's heart really was beating as fast and erratically as his own. "Why is your heart beating so fast?" As Riddle thought, Harry twisted his hand slightly, and the badge came loose. He flipped his hand over and caught the badge. Harry was glad that it hadn't been safety pinned.

Riddle's hand shot out quickly and grasped Harry's wrist, squeezing so tightly that Harry couldn't control the muscles in his hand. Harry hissed in pain.

"What do you think you're doing?" Riddle asked imperiously.

Harry shot a glare at him. "Taking back something that doesn't belong to you."

"Diggory doesn't deserve to be a prefect," Riddle responded with malice in his eyes.

Harry paled. Cedric. Caspian and Cedric were related. There were too many things similar between the two for it to just be a coincidence. They even had the same coloured hair. After Harry got over the shock it was replaced by anger. "Who the hell do you think you are?" He wrenched his hand away and succeeded in not only taking Caspian's badge with him, but not falling down the stairs. "What do you have against Diggorys anyway? They're pure-bloods. Unless that's why you hate them."

"I don't hate them," Riddle denied, easily, still trying to reach for the badge.

"You're right, you don't hate them," Harry exclaimed, on the verge of hysteria. "You're indifferent, which is worse. You fling them aside as though they aren't people, as though they're worthless." _Kill the spare_. "At least hate is a feeling. I bet you're incapable of feeling."

"What would you know? We only just met today."

"Right," Harry remembered, deflating. He wondered what he'd said in his anger. He hoped he hadn't revealed anything to probably the only student in the school who knew he was from the future. "Whatever. I got what I wanted." Harry turned to find an alternate route to Myrtle's bathroom.

Harry turned back immediately when he heard the tell-tale swish of someone taking out their wand quickly. Harry felt for his own, but remembered that he wasn't trustworthy enough to have one.

"Give it back," Riddle hissed, training his very familiar wand on Harry.

Harry frowned, grasping the badge tighter and looking for an escape route. There was nothing in the corridor at the bottom of the stairs, but it was still Thursday night. If he went down the corridor to the left he could take the secret passageway that ended up near the Hufflepuff dorms. Harry ran for it, darting left as Riddle shot a stunning spell at him. Who would have thought that Harry would need to run wandless from a Voldemort who didn't even know who he was?

Harry quickly darted through the wall that was the secret passageway and laded outside the Hufflepuff common room. He turned and was relieved when he didn't see Riddle following him. He'd dropped his blanket somewhere along the line, but he certainly wasn't going to go back for it. It was high time he paid Myrtle a visit.

x x x

Devon and Etienne were tiredly waiting for Harry outside the wall near Myrtle's bathroom.

"Where have you been?" the Irish boy asked, rather put out.

"I ran into Riddle," Harry said, then handed the badge to the Irish boy. "Give that to Caspian."

Both boys looked at Harry with new found respect.

"Was he wearing it?" Devon asked.

"Yeah," Harry said. "Thanks for the tip off, by the way."

"Sure," the Irish boy yawned. "Now get in there so we can cast the wards. We've already nearly been caught twice."

"Sorry," Harry said, not at all sorry. He walked into the bathroom, and watched as the two bays cast a complicated detection spell.

"If you come out before seven we'll know," the Irish boy said. Then they were gone.

Harry shut the bathroom door and called for Myrtle. She didn't seem to be around. Harry looked around the bathroom. It exactly the same as the one he'd known in his time. Which meant that the only place where he could stretch out to sleep would be between the sinks and the stalls. It was going to be horribly uncomfortable. For the millionth time today, Harry wished he had his wand. Luckily, he did have one thing that he didn't have earlier. A name. "Bubby?" he called.

The elf appeared in front of Harry. "Yes master?"

"Can you set up a mattress for me there?" he pointed to the floor. "I'm going to sleep here tonight."

"Master Dippet is not liking that," said Bubby, a concerned frown on his face.

"Just do it," Harry sighed, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

"Bubby must not be disobeying Master Dippet."

"Did Dippet tell you that you couldn't make up a bed for me there?"

Bubby deflated, shaking his head.

"Then do it," said Harry.

Bubby snapped his fingers and a cot appeared by the sinks with several pillows and a nice thick quilt. It looked like heaven to Harry.

"Thank you Bubby," he said, stripping off his outer robes, shoes and socks, and his glasses before slipping in and dozing off.

x x x

Harry was sure that he hadn't been asleep for long before a wail roused him. "What is it Myrtle?" he asked blearily, reaching for his glasses.

"This is a girls bathroom," Myrtle frowned at him, hovering dangerously close.

"So it is," dismissed Harry. "Goodnight Myrtle." He wished that he could fall asleep quickly, but nothing had come easily for Harry since he arrived in this strange place.

"Wait a minute," the ghost said. "How do you know my name?"

"Why wouldn't I know the name of the smartest girl in school?" Harry flattered her. An upset Myrtle was one he didn't want to spend any time at all with.

Myrtle blushed ghostily. "You don't mean that, do you?"

"Of course. And you're one of the bravest, too. No girl I know would do what you did."

"What did I do?" she asked.

"Tried to find out who was opening the Chamber of Secrets, of course."

"Oh," she preened. "Yes I did. It was awful. No one else was of any help and before I knew it, I died."

"I'd love to hear that story some day," said Harry. "But not right now," he added when he saw her opening her mouth to speak. "I'm not as lucky as you are. I need to sleep."

"Okay," she nodded. "I'll wake you up in the morning."

"Thanks," Harry said, and managed to drift off while Myrtle sat at the foot of his bed, watching him. It must have been his very long day that did it. Harry managed to have quite the comfortable sleep despite Myrtle watching his every move.

x x x

Myrtle woke Harry promptly at six thirty the next morning and Harry had to sit through the story of her death again before seven o'clock came around. As Harry began to make his excuses for leaving, Myrtle demanded that he give her a goodbye kiss… with tongue. Harry really did not want to relive the cold feeling of a ghost passing through him, and struggled to think up an excuse that wouldn't irritate her into flooding the room or flying straight through him.

"I'm sorry Myrtle," he began.

The ghostly girl frowned, ready to scream.

"If I've given you the wrong impression I didn't mean to."

"And just what is the wrong impression?" she asked, daring him to answer her.

Harry didn't voice it. "You're a great girl, but you're a girl. And I-" Here Harry stumbled over his words a moment. Then said, "I prefer men." It was the first time he'd admitted it to himself, but he'd known it was true for some time now.

"Oh," Myrtle looked put out, but not murderous, thankfully. "Are you sure I can't change your mind?"

"Very," said Harry.

"I wish you'd told me sooner," she said. "Then we could have talked about all the boys in the school."

Harry grimaced. "Next time."

Myrtle smiled. "Yes."

Harry struggled to keep the frown off his face. "Goodbye Myrtle."

x x x

Harry completed his next task with surprising efficiency. Having come straight from Myrtle's side, the ghost was at the forefront of his thoughts. Living in a time when Myrtle should have been alive was quite different from living in a time when she should have left Hogwarts years ago. It made Harry feel guilty for every ill thought he'd ever had about Myrtle.

With that in his mind, it was really very easy to take Olive Hornby down a peg or two when she came to flirt with him as he walked to breakfast with Caspian. Back in his own time, Harry probably would have felt flustered by her advances, but in this dreamlike world, he had the courage to do anything that he didn't think would affect his future.

"Hi," the attractive blonde said, curling a lock of her hair around a finger. "I'm Olive Hornby." It didn't take the nudge from Caspian to make Harry remember what he had to do.

"Sorry," he said. "I'm not interested."

She blushed. "Uh well, I just wanted to say welcome to Hogwarts."

"Did you really? Now you have. Goodbye."

"Well you don't have to be so rude about it," she glared at him.

"Actually I do." It was a direct contradiction but still something like the truth.

"The boys are putting you up to this, aren't they?" she said suspiciously.

Harry was surprised, she hadn't looked at all intelligent. No wonder she was a Ravenclaw. "Of course not," Harry denied. "Give me some credit. I know a bitch when I see one."

"What did you just call me?"

"I didn't call you anything."

"Oh, I think you did."

"No, I don't think I did."

Olive huffed and turned on her heel. Something told Harry that this wasn't the last he'd be seeing of Olive Hornby. Hopefully the next time would be just as enjoyable.

Caspian patted him on the back in a commending gesture. "I do so love to see Hornby taken down a notch."

"What do you have against her?" Harry asked.

"It's common knowledge that Myrtle wouldn't have been sulking in the bathroom if it wasn't for that witch."

Harry suspected that there was more to it than that. Harry wondered if Caspian had ever sent Myrtle crying to the bathroom. Judging by his reaction to Olive, he certainly seemed the type. He probably wanted to cover up his own guilt by pushing it onto Olive.

"Let's go, Diggory," he said.

Caspian was stunned. "How'd you figure that out?"

Harry smirked. "I have my ways."

"Bet you can't figure out my middle name."

"Bet I can," Harry grinned. "Now that I know you have one."

Caspian smacked his forehead. "I'm such an idiot."

"Can't say I disagree with you, mate," Harry laughed.

It was strange how close to Caspian Harry already felt. They hadn't even known each other a day and they were already getting along as well as he and Ron. But with the exception of Hermione, Harry had always made fast friends and enemies. It was as though his life was on fast forward.

x x x

Most of the students, and half the staff had already left the breakfast tables to do whatever it was that they usually did before class. They had left behind a mess that the house elves had yet to clear, though no one but Harry seemed to have noticed. The sixth year Gryffindor boys were still at the table, though. The Irishman, the blond and the dark haired boy were taking great joy in 'accidentally' spilling their breakfasts all along the table, benches and floor.

Luckily for Harry, any spills seemed to be automatically cleaned up to the annoyance of the boys, but in a rare moment, the Bulgarian boy mentioned that it was okay if Harry just cleared the dishes. It seemed that all Harry would have to do would be to stack the plates, gather the cutlery and take it all down to the kitchens. Bubby had shown him a shortcut and as long as Harry didn't hurt himself, the task wouldn't be too tedious.

Harry had finished his own breakfast rather early on, and had begun to stack the plates within reaching distance. Helpfully, upon seeing Harry do this, the rest of the Gryffindors (barring the sixth year boys) stacked their dishes similarly. Having experienced the trials the Bulgarian and French boys had been through, most of them suspected that it was just another case of putting the new boy through his paces.

And then dessert arrived. It was absolute chaos as a plate of everyone's favourite dessert appeared in front of them. Everyone was surprised, but not so badly that they didn't start eating the dishes almost immediately. It was then that Harry realised that with no way of knowing which ones the breakfast and dessert dishes were, he'd effectively doubled his workload.

Nice one Harry, he thought. You must have been half asleep when you talked to that elf. But could anyone really blame him? He set his plate of lemon bars aside, though his mouth watered at the sight of them. The house elves wouldn't clean until everyone had finished eating dessert. Harry still had every intention of finishing his dessert. He just wanted to wait until he'd finished clearing the rest of the dishes.

"Wonder what the occasion is," Caspian mused.

"I guess," muttered Harry darkly. "It was someone's great idea to double the amount of dishes I had to clear up."

The other boys looked at each other to determine who'd been that clever. Harry wouldn't enlighten them.

"I _wish_ I'd thought of it," Devon said.

"Even if I had," said the dark haired one. "I wouldn't know how to go about it."

The other boys expressed similar sentiments and Harry almost laughed out loud. If only they knew that he'd been his own undoing.

Needless to say, Harry arrived at his first old Hogwarts class late. It was Herbology in the greenhouses and Harry was assigned his first old Hogwarts detention. The professor would have him harvesting volatile fruit later that evening.

x X X x

_October 1996_

"So did you understand more of that than I did?" Ron questioned Hermione once they were safely away from Dumbledore's office.

Hermione bit her lip, unsure of what to tell Ron about what she'd realised. "I had no idea Harry was gay," she remarked, trying to throw Ron off the scent.

"Well I'm sure he would have told us if he'd had the chance," Ron said, hoping that it was the case.

"Yes," said Hermione, more sure than Ron. "I'm sure he would have mentioned it when the time was right. There's no need to hide something like that from us."

"We're friends," said Ron. "So long as he didn't have the hots for me or anything."

"That's a bit of a moot point," said Hermione. "He apparently found a boyfriend while he was back in the past."

Ron shuddered. "If his boyfriend isn't dead he's ancient. What on earth was Harry thinking?"

"I don't know," Hermione said. "But love's love. You can't help who you fall for." She glanced over at Ron when she said it.

Ron blushed as he thought about who he was maybe in love with. "I always sort of thought that he'd end up with Ginny."

Hermione made a face. "Your sister's with Dean."

Ron rolled his eyes. "No one's expecting that to last."

"Why not?" Hermione asked, wondering what Ron saw that she didn't.

"Ginny's been half in love with Harry forever," Ron stated. "If he reciprocated even a little bit she wouldn't have eyes for anyone else."

Hermione wondered if Ron was right. "It's sad though, isn't it?"

"What is?" asked Ron. "My sister mooning over my best friend?"

"No," responded Hermione. "Harry never got to tell us that he was gay. Imagine if he'd died. That was one huge part of our best friend's life that we never would have known." She turned to Ron. "You're not keeping any secrets, are you?"

Ron fidgeted and blushed. "Well…"

"I am," Hermione continued with determination. "Just one."

Ron looked at her curiously. "What is it?"

"This," she said. Then she reached up, grasped Ron's face between her hands and kissed him soundly.

Hermione kissed the sense right out of Ron. He was breathless and his mind was blank for a long moment after she'd pulled away.

Hermione stared at Ron, gauging his reaction. She'd put all of herself into that one action. If Ron couldn't return her feelings their lives would change forever.

"Wow," Ron said, finally, grasping a syllable. "Hermione, I've been keeping a secret too," he confessed. Then he reached down, mimicking her earlier action and kissed Hermione soundly on the lips.

The pair broke away from each other grinning.

"I've liked you for a long time now, Ronald Weasley," Hermione spoke.

Ron smiled. "Me too." The kiss wasn't enough for Ron, though. He needed to solidify whatever it was between them. "Hermione, would you like to go out on a date with me?"

Hermione's smile was beatific. "Yes Ron. I'd love to."

Hand in hand they made their way to the Gryffindor common room, sparing no more thought for their friend lost in time.

x X X x

A/N: You know what? I think this is the right length for chapters of this story, so I'm not going to try to make them longer.


	6. Old School

**Time and Again**

**Author's Note: **Sorry for the hideously long delay. I'd explain why, but I don't think anyone cares. I don't particularly like this chapter, which of course made it difficult to type up.

And sorry for not responding to reviews individually, I'm hoping that you'd rather have a chapter than review replies. I might get to them next chapter. One thing: This isn't an mpreg story. It never really crossed my mind as I don't see Voldemort as the fatherly type. Well, I guess he could be, but mine isn't.

**Chapter 5 – Old School**

_October 1944_

In Herbology, Harry had received a note summoning him to Professor Dippet's office at his earliest convenience. His next period was a fee one, and Harry wondered which offence Dippet wanted him for. With any luck there wouldn't be a punishment involved and Dippet was just checking up on him, seeing how he was settling back into Hogwarts life.

The password had changed, but unlike Dumbledore, Headmaster Dippet actually provided Harry with the new one in his note. The office looked exactly the same as yesterday. In fact, Dippet even seemed to be wearing the same robes.

"Sit down," Dippet said, brooking no argument.

Harry sat. So much for not being in trouble.

"One of the house elves informed me that you did not spend last night in your dormitory."

So much for trusting house elves. Harry remained silent.

"Don't you have anything to say for yourself?" Dippet asked.

"Like what, sir?"

"Perhaps you'd like to explain why you chose to sleep beside the Chamber of Secrets."

For a moment Harry was confused before he remembered that he was an untrustworthy dark wizard, the evil minion of the Dark Lord Grindelwald. Harry supposed that it would be best to feign innocence in this situation, though his lying did often leave much to be desired. "The chamber of what, sir? Isn't that a funny name for a bathroom?"

"Don't toy with me, boy. I want to know what you were doing down there."

"Sleeping, sir. I wouldn't have had the elf make me a bed if I hadn't wanted to sleep."

Dippet did not look amused, so Harry continued his explanation.

"The rest of the boys dared me to do it," Harry said. He didn't say that it was part of the initiation rite. That would be against the rules.

"Dared you?" inquired the professor.

"You know," Harry explained. "When they insult you by implying that you can't do something and then you prove them wrong."

"And what exactly did they think you couldn't do?"

"Spend the night in that girls' bathroom. I wasn't entirely sure why they wanted me to. That is, until I met Myrtle."

"You met Myrtle?"

"Her ghost," explained Harry. "But I guess they also might have thought that I might be afraid of that chamber you were talking about. But sir, I didn't see a chamber."

"Very well then," said the Headmaster. "I will accept that you knew nothing of the Chamber of Secrets. However, you did break the curfew by sleeping outside of your assigned dormitory, so you must be punished."

Harry placed and appropriately chastened look on his face. "Yes sir."

"And since you seem to have an affinity for bathrooms, I'm sure our caretaker will appreciate your help in cleaning them for the rest of the week."

"Yes sir."

"And I do expect that you will spend tonight, and every other night from now on, sleeping in your dormitory."

"Yes sir."

"I will know if you do not. I don't know what Hogwarts is like in your time, but in this time you will be caught and punished for any breach of the school rules." He conjured a piece of parchment and it flew into Harry's hands. "I expect you will read them thoroughly."

"Yes sir."

"You are dismissed."

"Thank you sir."

Harry frowned as he left. He hated cleaning toilets.

x x x

The girls were easily won over at lunchtime by Harry's excuse that he was only trying to fit in and wasn't it stupid of him to think that chocolate frog cards was the way to their heart? Harry congratulated himself on another task accomplished, though it was almost too easy to be worth the pat on the back.

The fact that Harry had finished had Etienne crowing to the rest of the boys about how his task was the most difficult and that Harry would never get it finished. Harry had hardly spared a thought on the name finding task, besides listening out when anyone would call them. He had at least one for each of them by the end of classes that day, but no full names.

Caspian, of course, was missing a middle name, as were Etienne Devereaux. He now knew that the redhead was a Weasley, but Harry knew he wasn't directly related to Ron. During potions, Harry discovered that Devon's real name was not Devon at all. Rather it was a nickname for Devaney, his last name, which meant that Harry still needed to find him a first name. The brunet's last name aws Joyce, Brian was the last name of the last blond, and the Bulgarian's last name was Slovensky. Harry wasn't sure how many of them had middle names. But Hermione had drummed a small amount of Bulgarian culture into Harry's head during the Tri-Wizard Tournament and that led Harry to believe that Slovensky probably had a middle name that was some form of his father's first name. Of course, Harry had no idea who his father was...

Straight after the end of classes, Harry headed to the library to hopefully discern what remained of the other boys' names. Unfortunately, when Harry asked the librarian, most of the records weren't available to students. Those that were, such as _Hogwarts, A History_, and the yearbooks from the past five years were mysteriously checked out. Harry smiled, it looked like Etienne knew what he was doing after all.

Harry met Elise in the library while he was considering where else he could go to get the names and wishing he could just ask her. He didn't tell her what he was doing, of course, but she did complain that 'Lev' had set a mouse loose in her dorm. Harry was sure that the nickname belonged to one of his dormmates, but he couldn't tell which.

"Are you sure it was him?" asked Harry, trying to glean information without directly asking who Lev was. That was too easy and bound to get him disqualified. Harry was finding increasingly that he didn't really care if the boys let him into their circle or not. He had friends in his own time. He didn't need them here. Every moment he was around them he had to be cautious of what he was saying. They would never know who he really was because he could never tell them.

Harry was glad for his initiation tasks if only because it meant he could spend time away from the other boys without seeming suspicious. Not to mention the looks on the boys faces after he completed a difficult task were really something. He guessed there was some part of him that wanted to lord it over his new roommates.

"Yes," said Elise firmly, answering the question Harry had forgotten she'd asked. "It couldn't have been Casp or Abe," - one more name to add to his list - "Since they slept in all morning. And, well, he pretty much admitted it at breakfast."

Harry must have been too preoccupied with Olive Hornby and the thought of cleaning double the breakfast dishes to notice what the other boys were saying. It was a pity.

"Anyway," Elise interrupted his musings. "I have to study for my Runes exam of I'm going to fail. See you later."

"Bye," Harry said. It was strange how normal almost everything was in the past. Everything, including the way people spoke was similar, and sometimes he wasn't sure whether it was because the Wizarding World was ahead of, or behind the times. Sometimes he wished he'd paid more attention in History of Magic. Binns, as a ghost, was already taking that class in this time, and Harry's musings about just how old the ghost was were starting to scare Harry.

After leaving the library, Harry decided to try his luck in the trophy room. He knew that there was a board in there dedicated to the listing of prefects' names, so Harry was sure that he could finally solve the mystery of Caspian's middle name. thankfully the plaque was just were Harry expected it to be, and revealed that Caspian's middle name was Barney. Caspian Barney? Caspian Barney Diggory? Whatever had his parents been thinking? Harry observed the rest of the trophies. Perhaps the boys had distinguished themselves in some way other than as troublemakers.

Etienne, it seemed, was rather booksmart and was listed as Dux Litterarum for every year since he'd been at the school. Besides "Abraham Weasley" on last year's Gryffindor quidditch trophy, the rest of the boys were unsurprisingly absent. As Harry was leaving, he caught sight of the award Tom Riddle had gotten for Special Services to the School. Harry almost chucked a Ron and threw up on it, then resisted the temptation to throw it on the floor. He was already on the headmaster's radar, he shouldn't jeopardise the tenuous amount of trust he'd been given. If Dippet got any more suspicious, Harry thought he might end up in Azkaban. At least he had three boys' names... only four more to go.

x x x

At dinner, a younger Hufflepuff student, possibly a second or third year approached Devon. He seemed to be complaining about something. "Lev-," he whined, but was silenced before he could complete the name. At least Harry was aware that it was Lev Devaney.

Harry could garner no more information during dinner and he was preparing himself for a raid on the Room of Requirement. Harry had to finish by midnight, and he couldn't very well sneak out after curfew with Dippet watching him so closely. Even now Harry could feel the headmaster's eyes on the back of his neck.

Unfortunately, before Harry could make a speedy getaway he was once again accosted by Tom Riddle.

"I want to know what you did," Riddle demanded.

Harry had no idea what he was talking about. "I gave the badge to Caspian. What else would I do with it?"

"Not that," spat Riddle. "Last night you just disappeared."

"I have my ways," Harry said, deliberately mysterious. "Why would I tell you, anyway? If I did I wouldn't be able to use it to get away from you."

"I looked for a secret passageway. There wasn't one there."

"Maybe you didn't look hard enough," teased Harry. This time he was the one getting to Riddle's personal space. His traitorous heart raced for reasons unknown and Harry was suddenly terrified. "I have to go." He tried to get away but Riddle stepped forward and pinned him against the wall behind him.

Harry struggled to loose his arms and legs, but Riddle was stronger than he looked. Not to mention he had the weight advantage. Harry refused to surrender. "You honestly don't think I'm just going to tell you, do you?"

Riddle leaned still closer to Harry, breath ghosting across his ear. "I could make it worth your while," he whispered.

Harry's entire body turned traitor and shuddered. Harry blamed it on the fact that he wasn't used to such close human contact. He most certainly did not think that Tom Riddle was attractive. No way.

"Just let me go," Harry protested weakly. "I don't want to make a deal."

"Why would I?" murmured Riddle. "When I have you right where I want you?"

Harry's mind raced and he did the only thing he could think of in this situation. He teased. "I never would have pegged you for a shirt lifter." It was true. To Harry, even Tom Riddle had always seemed purely asexual, only interested in power and torment.

Riddle blanched and backed off quicker than Harry could explain. "I'm not filthy like them." Perhaps he didn't like to be reminded of his humanity.

"Guess you should have thought twice before touching me, then." Harry straightened his robes and prepared to take off.

Riddle had the nerve to wipe his palms off on his robes. "I will found out," he threatened. Then he was gone as fast as he came. Once again, Harry fervently wished that he would never run into Riddle again. At their current rate of meeting, Harry deemed this highly unlikely.

x x x

The Room of Requirement provided Harry with what he needed as he had expected. He now had the list of all the boys' names, but was rather unwilling to step back out to the Hogwarts hallways and was currently wishing for a door straight to his dorm. Wouldn't that be difficult to explain to the other boys?

Harry wondered if time was passing in his present. Would Hermione and Ron find time to worry about where he'd gone, or would he be returned to the exact moment that he left. Harry hoped that when he came back, he'd be returned to the body he'd left behind. The burns on his face could get rather itchy, though he preferred this small discomfort over being forced to witness Voldemort's various atrocities.

While he was thinking, a mirror appeared on the wall of the room. But it didn't reflect Harry. It reflected Ron and Hermione, looking just as he remembered them. Their faces were grim as they stood, wands raised at each other, taking duelling stances. Harry was transfixed as they threw hex after hex at one another. As they duelled, Ron seemed to become angrier and angrier as he finally cast the same cutting charm he'd once used on his dress robes at Hermione. Her arm was torn open where she had tried to cover her face and Harry wished that he could be there and help in some way. Harry let out a relieved sigh as he watched Ron immediately run over and staunch the blood flow with his robe.

Harry realised that he couldn't stay here just watching them forever, but he wanted them to leave first. As Ron helped Hermione out of the door, he caught Harry's eye in the mirror. Harry mouthed "I'm okay" before Ron turned to see if Harry was standing behind him. Not seeing anything, Ron shook his head and refocused his attention on Hermione's wound.

It was only after realising that he was all alone in an empty room that Harry began to cry. It had finally caught up with him. He might never see his friends again. He didn't want to be here in the past where Tom Riddle walked around as though he owned the place, and the boys made you pull stupid stunts just to sleep in the same room as them. He'd miss Ginny, and Neville, and Luna, and Hagrid and Dumbledore, and Remus... and Sirius. He'd forgotten all about Sirius since he'd been here. Even if he returned to his own time he'd never see his godfather again. But...

It dawned on Harry that he was in the past. He could save Sirius is he stayed her longer. If he stayed until after he was born he wouldn't need to fear not being born. He could meet his parents, though they could never know who he truly was. Would it be worth it? On the other hand, it wasn't like Harry really had a choice in the matter. he had no way of getting himself back to his own time, unless he created a time spell himself. He might have to. Harry was pretty sure that he didn't want to stay here forever. He needed to fulfill the prophecy. Voldemort had marked him. He had to live up to that.

x x x

An hour after curfew, Harry finally made it back to his dorm where seven boys were waiting for him eagerly. Seven boys whose names he now knew.

"Did you get them?" asked Caspian immediately.

Harry smirked. "Of course, Caspian Barney Diggory." He brandished the slip of paper the room had given him that listed their names.

"No way!" Tony Brian Bones, the blond, exclaimed. "How on earth did you manage that?"

"That would be telling."

"You cheated," Leverett Devaney, the Irishman, accused.

"Define 'cheat'," Harry stated.

"You asked someone," Lev suggested.

Harry shook his head. "No, I didn't."

"Then how?"

Harry really was relishing this moment. "Magic."

Gregory Thomas Joyce, the brunet, put in. "Who cares how he did it? Just put his curtains back so that we can go to bed already." Disappointed in the lack of challenge, he just wanted to sleep.

"Fine," grumbled Caspian. More and more, Harry was realising that the only reason why Caspian was a prefect was because one of them had to be. With a flick of his wand, Caspian had Harry's curtains back in place. His was the last bed but one. The one closest to the bathroom belonged to Mihail Ivanov Slovensky, the Bulgarian.

Lev noticed that Harry was observing the beds. "Mick has to pee a lot," he explained.

Harry wondered if the Bulgarian boy objected to the other boys' use of an Anglicised nickname for him, or if it made him feel more welcome and included. But those were thoughts for another time. Right now, Harry was tired. Exhausted you might say. He slid under the covers and promptly fell asleep.

x X X x

_October 1996_

Hermione was pacing the common room while Ron distractedly attempted to complete a potions essay. A pacing Hermione wasn't a good thing. It meant that she couldn't organise her thoughts, otherwise she'd be writing them down or researching in the library. And given that she'd barely spoken to him since their kiss, Ron was understandably concerned that she was thinking about how to let him down easily.

Finally, she sank to her knees in front of the coffee table he'd been scrawling on.

Almost too afraid to ask, Ron said, "So what's got you so riled up?"

Hermione smiled at him, and Ron hoped that it wasn't some sort of let down smile. "We need to get the DA back together."

Well that was definitely not the conclusion that Ron had come to. It was the farthest thing on his mind. Ron was so relieved that he immediately latched onto the idea. "Great!" Before his brain caught up. "Why?"

"Now that Harry's gone, and we don't know when he's going to come back, it's going to be even more important that we learn to defend ourselves."

"Why?" asked Ron. "We're kids. No one's going to expect us to fight in the war."

Hermione looked at him incredulously. "In case you didn't notice, I'm seventeen now. I'm of age. I could leave Hogwarts right now and no one could stop me, same as your brothers did."

Ron had a new fear, now, that Hermione would leave him behind. If he was honest with himself, he'd always been afraid of that. Hermione had always seemed to put together, and so smart. Who was he? Just another dumb Weasley. "You wouldn't, would you?"

Hermione softened as she saw Ron's trepidation. "I'm smart enough to know that I need an education. But Ron, we're going to need more than just what Hogwarts can teach us. We need more practical application."

Ron nodded. "But Harry's gone. So who's going to teach?"

"We are," Hermione said. "Together."

"Me?" Ron did not like the idea. "You, I'm sure, will be amazing. But I can barely cast the spells we're taught in class."

"Well then," Hermione said. "We'd better get practising."

x x x

They head to the Room of Requirement for some duelling practice.

"We'll just go over everything we learned last year, first," Hermione said.

Ron nodded. They did the traditional salute, and began as soon as the bell rang. Hermione was immediately on the offensive, shouting "Confringo!"

Expecting that, Ron cast a quick protego, and darted to his left, countering with the full body-bind.

Hermione dodged the blast, aiming her wand behind Ron and casting Reducto. Not expecting that, Ron was caught by surprise as rubble flew toward him. He quickly recovered, re-casting his shield charm, then taking advantage of the mess by using Wingardium Leviosa to send the bits flying toward Hermione.

As she dodged each piece of flying wall, Hermione cast a tripping jinx on Ron. Having the upper hand, she shouted "Incarcerous." Suddenly bound, Ron struggled to force his wand into a manageable position. "Give up?" Hermione asked.

"Never," Ron retorted, casting a cutting charm on the ropes. In a flash of inspiration, he used the same charm on Hermione, aiming toward her face.

Instinctively, Hermione covered her face with her arms as the charm hit. A single straight slash appeared through her robe sleeves, cutting the flesh of her right forearm.

Ron immediately went pale. "I'm so sorry, Hermione," he gasped, quickly tearing a strip from his robes to wrap around her injury. "We have to go to the hospital wing."

"I'm fine," Hermione muttered, seemingly in shock.

"You're not fine," Ron responded, finishing tying off the injury and putting an arm around her. "Today's duelling session is over."

As they were about the leave the room, a wall-sized mirror appeared to Ron's left. Hermione was too focused on the door to notice. Wondering why it had appeared, Ron paused. Then he squinted at the mirror. Was that _Harry_ being reflected? Ron quickly snapped his neck around to see if Harry was in the room. No such luck. He guessed the duel had taken more out of him than he'd thought.

x X X x

A/N: Oh yeah, that's why I never write battle scenes. Because I suck at it. Sorry if this chapter is full of errors I was trying to be quick about posting it.


	7. Wands Out

**Time and Again**

**Author's Note:** In case you were wondering this story is probably the longest thing I've ever written. It's well over 50k words which is my benchmark since that's how long NaNoWriMo is. So you're going to have to put up with me for a while before this ends.

**Chapter 6 -Wands Out  
**

_October 1944_

The next few days were boring in Harry's opinion. Despite the fact that there was a war going on outside, the students were remarkably carefree. Thinking back to his own time, Harry didn't think that anyone in his own time was so naive. It was pretty obvious after all the people who'd been interested in the DA last year. Dumbledore's presence ensured that Grindelwald stayed away from the British Isles, but how could they put their faith so blindly in that?

There were fewer students at Hogwarts than there had been in his time. The difference was especially marked in the muggleborn students. Harry wondered if it was because of the war, or if there were truly fewer muggleborn students in this time. Perhaps it was more difficult to find them. If there was a sudden influx of them, Harry could see how the purebloods might feel prejudiced against the newcomers.

Harry shook his head. No. He wasn't going to start letting Voldemort's way of thinking get into his head. All the murders Voldemort had done, they were inexcusable. Just because when you were standing within a foot of Tom Riddle didn't mean he was a person. It didn't mean that he had any humanity, no matter how nicely it was dressed up.

Dumbledore seemed conspicuously absent from Hogwarts. Harry hadn't yet had Transfiguration, but Dumbledore hadn't shown up for any meals. It was like his fifth year all over again. Under the guise of asking about his teachers, Harry gleaned that Dumbledore was often absent during mealtimes.

"Do you know why?" asked Harry. "Is he a vampire?" It wasn't the cleverest lead he had, but it would have to do.

The other boys laughed before Caspian explained. "Rumour has it that he and Grindelwald used to be friends."

"Or more than friends," Etienne remarked.

"We _know_ they used to be friends," corrected Greg the brunet corrected.

"Right," said Caspian. "But the rumours say that he tries to talk sense into Grindelwald."

"I think it's a load of crap," Devon said from across the table. "Dumbledore could stop the war if he wanted to, but he's scared of Grindelwald."

The Dumbledore that Harry knew wasn't afraid of Voldemort. But he supposed it was a different thing to be afraid of your ex-student, rather than your ex-best friend. Harry wasn't worried since he knew that Dumbledore did eventually defeat Grindelwald. Perhaps he was in training.

"He probably can't," protested Tony the blond. "Dumbledore's just a teacher. Everyone knows that those who can't, teach."

"He's a better teacher than Old Fartland," defended Caspian. Angus McPartland was the Charms teacher. He reminded Harry of Snape, but was unfairly prejudiced toward Ravenclaws instead. He seemingly had no tolerance for ignorance and expected everyone to know everything before they got to class.

"I think I've lost more points to him than all the other teachers combined," Devon remarked.

"And he's on par with Riddle for most prejudiced points-taker," Abe Weasley groaned.

"Now _he's_ a vampire," stated Tony. "Hardly see him during the day then BAM!" He clapped his hands together. "He's everywhere you turn after curfew."

"Well he is head boy," intoned Etienne reasonably. "You aren't supposed to be out after curfew most nights."

Caspian chortled into his pumpkin juice.

"You're one to talk," Tony frowned. "Remember fourth year, before you were a prefect? He took more points from you than the rest of us combined. It's no wonder he's so pissed you became a prefect. He couldn't take points from you anymore!"

Caspian just shrugged, an impish smile on his face.

x x x

Detention cleaning the bathrooms was back-breaking work. Harry vowed never to set food in a bathroom again. A vow he quickly reneged when he decided that he had to do a number two. A better place for that than the toilet was yet to be invented - even in Harry's own time.

While cleaning, Harry ran into Devon, Greg and Tony who had to write lines as a punishment that Harry thankfully didn't have to partake in. Harry was especially pleased about that when he heard that they'd only caused trouble in Arithmancy so that they could get Harry to do an extra punishment. Unfortunately, the detention hadn't been scheduled before Harry's time was up.

He noticed that they were using regular quills and not blood quills. Harry was glad that none of the other boys had noticed the scar on the back of his hand. He hoped that this meant that blood quills weren't still in common use. After discovering corporal punishment, Harry couldn't be too sure.

x x x

Monday morning saw Harry in his first Transfiguration class with Professor Dumbledore. Harry tried not to squirm under the other man's gaze. Dumbledore had always seemed to know everything and with fifty years less knowledge, his gaze was still too knowing for Harry's liking. He tried to reassure himself in his mind. So what if he was from the future? He didn't want to be here, in the past. Harry shouldn't have felt guilty, but he did.

Class was about turning inanimate objects into rather larger animate creatures. Harry didn't think it was an entirely sensible thing to practice in an enclosed space. They were even one down as he still didn't have a wand with which he could transfigure a dragon. He fell backwards as one girl's transfigured hippogriff backed into him. Perhaps Dumbledore had always been eccentric, even in his youth. Harry certainly couldn't imagine a little auburn haired Dumbledore gallivanting about without seeming at all strange. But a little eccentricity in children was always forgiven. Harry certainly couldn't imagine the professor as a Hogwarts student himself, sitting here amongst the other Gryffindors.

In fact, Harry mused later as he was sitting in the hospital wing watching the flesh regrow over the hole in his leg that had been left by Abraham Weasley's half shoe/half crocodile creation, this Dumbledore rather reminded him of Hagrid. Perhaps that was why Dumbledore had so sympathised with him after the Aragog debacle last year. Harry hadn't seen Hagrid around and he wondered where he was. He'd been expelled from Hogwarts, but wasn't quite old enough to be the groundskeeper yet, in Harry's opinion.

With all that was going on, Harry wondered if it was possible to survive a Hogwarts education without becoming clinically insane. Perhaps insanity was a prerequisite for survival and graduation.

x x x

"There you are," Riddle said, catching up with Harry after dinner. Tony certainly was right about being a vampire. Or, well, a future dark lord. Harry had been hoping to escape his dormmates for some breakdown time but of course, Tom Riddle, Dark Wizard in Training, had to disturb him.

"Go away," Harry commanded, hoping that this would be the time Riddle actually bothered to listen to him.

"No," Riddle defied him, getting into Harry's space... again. "For someone who just got here you sure are hard to get on your own."

"Whatever it is, Riddle, I'm not interested." Harry crossed his arms and looked away from Riddle.

Riddle smirked. "I think you'll come to change your mind."

Harry frowned, but dismissed the comment. "Whatever." He tried to step around Riddle, but it Riddle just copied his movement.

"I have something you want."

Harry made a show of glancing up and down Riddle's body. "Not interested."

"I'm not a bloody faggot!" Riddle exclaimed in anger, his eyes narrowing into slits and flashing red. How could no one foresee that this boy would become a dark lord?

"I think you're protesting too much." Riddle was too easy to tease. Harry was sure that if he had his wand they'd be evenly matched in all respects.

Riddle seemed to grow larger in his anger, as much as Harry tried to shrug it off. He was determined not to be intimidated. Maybe he'd get the Room of Requirement to make him a wand. Harry wondered if the Room could do that. There wasn't anything that he hadn't seen the Room able to do, but he hadn't been able to go back to his own time through it.

After a moment of Harry not backing down, Riddle deflated. "Why is it that only you can unsettle me this easily?"

Harry fought the urge to laugh. Your nemesis could do that to you, of course. It was part of what made them a worthy opponent. "Just lucky, I guess." Unlucky more like it.

"It doesn't matter," he said. "I want to know what you know."

Harry was immediately on guard. Voldemort was a skilled Legilimens and Riddle may have already acquired that skill. Once again Harry hated himself for not doing better in his Occlumency lessons. "Sorry," he said, sounding as unapologetic as possible. "I'm not giving out that information to anyone."

Riddle smirked. And it wasn't like one of Malfoy's smirks, which were always more teasing than anything else. Riddle's smirk had no humour behind it. It was chilling. Harry re-analysed what he'd just said. He should have denied that he knew anything. Now Riddle knew he knew something. "I think you'll make an exception for me," Riddle stated.

"Oh?" Harry was still feigning disinterest. "And why's that?"

"Well," it's about this long," Riddle said, holding his hands about a foot apart.

Harry scoffed. "Don't flatter yourself."

"You didn't let me finish," said Riddle knowingly.

Harry was worried. His little joke hadn't affected Riddle in the least.

"It's made of holly," he said. "And if I'm not mistaken, has a phoenix feather core like my own."

Harry paled and his jaw dropped. Then the real implication of what Riddle just said dawned upon him. "You stole my wand!" He poked an accusing finger into Riddle's chest, then tried sticking his hands into Riddle's robes to find his wand.

Riddle yanked Harry's hands out of his robes by the wrists. "Did you really think I'd fall for that again?"

Harry fumed. "You're not going to get away with this."

Riddle bent Harry's wrists back almost to the snapping point. Harry winced. Once again he wondered why no one saw it coming. "You'll find that I have all the cards," Riddle said, deathly calm. "You just have to answer a couple of simple questions. Trivial ones, really. Then I'll let you have your wand back."

"I'm not going to be blackmailed," Harry proclaimed. It was just a wand. What little protection it afforded him as Voldemort's wand's brother wasn't any use if he told Riddle anything important.

"Come now, Evan. Just a couple of easy questions then you're wand's back to its rightful owner and Dippet won't even have to know that you have one."

The idea of being armed without Dippet's knowledge appealed to Harry, but he didn't really want to get onto the headmaster's bad side should he find out. Even Riddle, paragon of evil, thought Harry had ulterior motives and he must've been able to tell the truly evil from the Harrys of the world. Harry wanted to prove to Dippet that he wasn't anything like Riddle. A wand wasn't worth it. "I told you." Harry wrenched his wrists from Riddle's grasp. "I'm not playing." Harry walked away.

Riddle's slitted eyes were back. "I think you'll come to see it my way before long."

"Is that a threat?" asked Harry, stopping momentarily.

"It's a prophecy," stated Riddle.

Harry gave into the urge and flipped him the bird over his shoulder as he continued walking away.

After dismissing getting his wand back from Riddle by himself, it became clear to Harry that he had two choices in this wandless situation: he could tell Dippet, thereby further besmirching his reputation by trying to sully a trusted student's reputation, or he could go to the Room of Requirement and beg it for a wand. Come to think of it, that wasn't really a choice. It was starting to get late, though, so Harry decided that he should go back to the Gryffindor Dorms instead. He could visit the Room of Requirement another day.

x x x

The next day, Harry woke early to that he'd have time to get a wand before breakfast. He didn't want to have another run-in with Riddle unarmed. Unfortunately, when Harry got to the Room, he couldn't use it because something else was already in there. Harry wished he had the Marauder's Map so that he wouldn't have had to come all this way for nothing. He was also curious as to who knew about the Room and its capabilities.

Harry worried as a thought struck him. What if he'd been carrying the map that day in Slughorn's classroom? Riddle might have stolen it as well as his wand. Harry wasn't sure what had been in his pockets that day. It was unlikely that Riddle would have taken what seemed like a blank piece of parchment, but Riddle was smart, and magically powerful. Maybe he'd cottoned on to the fact that there was something special about it.

Which brought Harry to the point he'd been thinking over all night long. Why had Riddle taken his wand? Harry could just say it was because Riddle was evil and leave it at that, but it didn't make any sense. Harry supposed Riddle might have taken it because he thought Harry was dangerous, and Riddle always had his own agenda, so he wouldn't have told the teachers. But how had he known Harry had had it around his wrist? Actually, scrap that. His wand was probably revealed when his sleeve disintegrated in the potion.

Lost in thought, Harry failed to notice the figure that slipped out of the Room of Requirement behind him. The next thing he noticed was that it was long past the beginning of breakfast.

x x x

"So," smirked Caspian as Harry sat down at the breakfast table. "Just where have you been?"

The other boys chortled and wolf-whistled.

"What?" asked Harry, bemused.

"We know there's a reason why you were late to breakfast," put in Greg.

"And we think it has something to do with that redhead who came in just before you," added Tony.

Harry was amused by their suppositions and did nothing to discourage them. "What redhead?"

"The Ravenclaw," supplied Abe.

"Don't act like you don't know," goaded Tony.

"I don't know what you boys are talking about," teased Harry, pretending he knew exactly who and what.

Caspian heaved a theatrical sigh. "Looks like Evan here's not one to kiss and tell."

Harry laughed. "Honestly guys, I couldn't sleep so I went for a walk before breakfast. I just didn't realise how far I'd gone."

The rest of the boys groaned, slumping back in their seats.

"God I wish something interesting happened around here," Tony sighed.

"Quidditch match is this weekend," put in Lev as he reached for another sausage.

"Is your team any good?" Harry asked, already knowing the answer after his perusal of the trophy room. Harry missed quidditch, but there was no way that there'd be room for him on the team.

"Only the best team ever," announced Tony, seemingly perking up. "And Abe here's the best chaser known to wizardkind."

Abraham blushed as red as his hair. "I'm not that good."

"Don't be so modest," encouraged Caspian. "If you weren't still at school a professional team would have snapped you up years ago."

That only made Abe turn redder.

"When's practice?" Harry asked. "I want to watch."

"Sorry mate," said Caspian. "Sherman's a dictator. Won't let anyone watch practice. Not even her own boyfriend." He looked pointedly at Mihail.

"I don't like quidditch," he stated carefully.

"She's wasted on him," Caspian sighed.

"Casp is still sore that she turned him down back in third year," Lev stage whispered to Harry.

"Oi!" exclaimed Caspian. "I am not. I just think that she could do better than Mick."

The Bulgarian frowned at him. It wasn't the first time that Harry had noticed tension between the pair. Of course it would be because of a girl.

x X X x

_October 1996_

They went to Dumbledore to have the DA officially added as an extra-curricular group, which wasn't so difficult to accomplish. Unfortunately, being official meant that officially they needed a supervisor, and Dumbledore was adamant that it be Snape as he was currently the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. Hermione and Ron had thought it was all over then, but miraculously, Snape had agreed. Ron was sure that Dumbledore was blackmailing him, but Hermione suspected that he was going to enjoy the experience. She was certain that he liked watching his students fail, for all that he liked to grumble.

The expansion of the DA into official grounds meant that it was now about eighty students, from second year up. And now it also included Slytherins, most notably Malfoy. Ron had just about thrown a fit when he'd seen the sign-up sheet. He didn't think that they should be teaching those who would become Death Eaters any new techniques. Hermione didn't like it either, but she argued that it was better for a few more kids on their side to get some training, even if at the same time as those who would become Death Eaters. She reminded him that it wasn't only Slytherins who became the Dark Lord's followers, and that all houses learnt the same things at Hogwarts, their education would be basically on par anyway. Ron just wished they were back to being secret, holding irregular meetings and only contactable by galleon.

The day finally came for the first DA session in the year. Ron and Hermione stood in front of the group of students who sat on mats before them in the Room of Requirement. Hermione was suddenly terrified to share what she knew for the first time in her life. But what was there to fear? They'd done this before. The only thing missing was Harry. She took a deep breath and squeezed Ron's hand once before letting it fall and beginning to speak.

"Welcome to the first session of the DA for this year. For those of you who don't know, I'm Hermione Granger and this is Ron Weasley. We'll be your tutors in extra-curricular defence against the dark arts this year. Today we're going to be running a free for all duel that will rank you into three groups. Then next week we'll get started on teaching you spells appropriate to your level."

A third year Hufflepuff who was new to the group raised her hand. Hermione indicated for her to ask her question. "Why don't you just rank us by year level?" the girl asked.

Ron stepped up to answer the question. "Because we're not teaching the Hogwarts curriculum. Some things will be easier for different people to pick up. And some people were in this group last year and have already been taught the things we'll be teaching the lowest group."

There were some mutterings amongst the group before Hermione continued. "You won't stay in the same group for the rest of the year, though. We'll be holding other sorts of duels every month to determine whether you're actually in the right group, or if it's more appropriate for the groups to shift. Today it's a free for all which means everyone's going to take a place on the mat, and you won't be allowed to step out of it. If you fall from the mat, you're out. If you drop your wand, you're out. We're testing duelling ability, not spell knowledge so I don't want anyone throwing any dangerous spells. As soon as you're hit with something, even as minor as a tickling curse you're out.

"Actually," Hermione amended. "Can everyone cast Rictusempra? I want that to be the only offensive spell everyone uses. You can use whatever defensive techniques you want, but only the tickling curse to attack. As soon as you're hit by it, you're out. If you get out in the first ten minutes, you'll be in the lowest group. If you get out in under an hour, you'll be in the middle group. And anyone still standing when the hour is up will be in the highest group. Questions?"

A few second years put their hands up saying that they couldn't perform the tickling curse. Hermione ran through it a few times with them, but decided to also include the freezing charm that they were more familiar with. All the while Snape sat in the corner, casting his beady eyes over the proceedings, but otherwise seeming uninterested.

Hermione and Ron ascended the podium in the centre of the floor that had appeared, their wands ready, secretly breathing sighs of relief that so far everything had gone without a hitch. They took to opposite sides of the platform to observe the duellers, and then simultaneously let off green sparks to signal the start of the contest.

It was a melee, but that was to be expected. A couple of third years near the edge of the mats tripped almost as soon as the fight began, and Ron felt kind of bad for them as no spells had been shot at them, and they hadn't had the chance to fire any off. But they were testing duelling ability, and that included the ability to stay on one's feet in a crazy situation. Actually, most of the people who got out in the first ten minutes did so by tripping over themselves or other people. Few were taken out simply by well-aimed spells, and Ron was dismayed to notice that it was Malfoy who managed the first one, even though he'd been targeted by three sixth years determined to see him out of the competition early.

After ten minutes were up, there were sixteen students watching from the walls of the Room. Most were second and third years, but there were three fourth years, and lone fifth, sixth and seventh years.

The battle became more interesting with fewer people on the mat to trip over. Some students had formed alliances, constructing solid forts and taking down those who dared approach, while others continued to work on their own, fighting one on one battles, and occasionally being overtaken by a group on the offensive. Ginny and Neville were working as a pair, deftly covering one another as they targeted student after student.

Crabbe and Goyle dropped within half an hour, so Malfoy was left to defend himself, ably disillusioning himself so that only the spectators were able to see him. Luna Lovegood was holding her own, standing in a corner by herself and appearing like an easy target. But as soon as anyone raised a wand against her, she'd flick the tickling curse at them before anyone near them knew who'd thrown it.

With ten minutes to go, most of the students were out in an even mix of year groups. The second and third years had been entirely eliminated, and most of the remaining students had been in the DA the previous year. The only lone student left was Malfoy, the Slytherins that had tried to form an alliance with him had quickly been taken down. Hermione was surprised that as far as she could tell (which was pretty far as the Room itself was the true umpire of the match), Malfoy hadn't cheated in any way, despite the fact that he'd been almost unfairly targeted from the first second.

Luna had been assimilated into Neville and Ginny's group so easily that Ron wasn't even sure if Neville and Ginny had noticed. The last similar battle they'd been in was at the Department of Mysteries and of course they'd been protecting one another. The three of them were currently engaged in a battle with four Ravenclaws from sixth and seventh year and had already managed to take down one from that group despite being outnumbered.

The only two Hufflepuffs remaining were currently engaged in trying to take down Malfoy and neither side was budging. The only other battle waging was between a trio of Gryffindors and a corresponding trio of Ravenclaws who seemed to have some sort of personal grudge against each other if the insults they were hurling were anything to go by. Hermione quickly threw up silencing charms to spare the second years the more colourful ones, to the dismay of all the spectators.

By this point there were only two minutes remaining, and almost everyone seemed to be at an impasse. Ron had half a mind to call off the battle early and consider those remaining the top group. Of course, the other half of him was interested to see if anyone would pull off a last second take down, and was still hoping that Malfoy wouldn't be amongst the top group.

The Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw fight seemed to implode all of a sudden, less than thirty seconds to go. Someone ran into someone else causing a third someone to misfire their shield charm which led to yet another someone falling off the mat. Revenge was on all of their minds and each of the remaining duellers fired off a Rictusempra before they were all hit and out of the match.

Distracted by this, a couple of the Ravenclaws fighting Ginny, Neville and Luna were quickly disabled as well, before the final buzzer went, signalling the end of the match. The only students left were Ginny, Neville, Luna, Malfoy, two Hufflepuff seventh years: Maxine O'Flaherty and Anthony Rickett, Terry Boot, and seventh year Ravenclaw Eddie Carmichael. Despite the fact that she hadn't taught them a thing yet, Hermione felt pride in all of them.

"Good work everyone," Ron commended. "I think everyone knows which group they've been sorted but if not, the lists are up near the door as you leave. We'll see you back here same time and same place next week for spell practice."

There were grumbles and groans, especially from those who were still standing in the ring. The adrenaline was still pumping through their veins, urging them to continue fighting.

"Hey Ron," Ginny yelled from her position. "Can't we finish this?" she asked, indicating to those who were with her in the highest group. "I want to know who'd win in a fight where we can use things other than the tickling charm."

Everyone who'd stood up to leave immediately sat back down at her words.

Ron and Hermione shared a look, Snape had already left so anything they did now was not Hogwarts sanctioned and the blame would be placed squarely on them. "Don't you want to eat something?" Ron asked. It was lunchtime. "We could pick up another day."

Ginny, it seemed, was out for blood. "Right now," she said. "It won't take long to settle this." The look in her eyes told Ron that his sister was going to continue with this duel whether he liked it or not.

Ron exhaled hopelessly. Hermione shrugged. She couldn't see any harm. "Okay," she said, and the duellers remaining were quick to take battle stances. "But!" she continued before any of them could throw a spell. "We need new rules then. It's going to be individuals only, no more alliances. No dark spells. Nothing illegal, which should go without saying. Nothing that you don't think Madam Pomfrey would be able to heal, and preferably nothing that I wouldn't be able to heal. The same rule about leaving the mat applies. And spells only, no hand to hand fighting. Other than that, the only rule is disarmament: as soon as your wand leaves your hand you're out."

The eight students left formed a loose circle, wands up and game faces on. Carmichael was exhaling heavily, and there was no doubt in Ron's mind that if he found a way to back out without seeming like a coward he would.

"Go!" Hermione shouted, blasting sparks from her wand at the same time.

It wasn't chaos. Half the group were automatically on the defence, and half were automatically on the offense. Neville must have been practising during the holidays because he put up a very impressive Protego, which immediately held off Malfoy's flame curse. The flames rebounded, and Malfoy had to roll out of the way quickly.

Terry Boot was the first to be disqualified, despite Carmichael's obvious fatigue. Ginny hit him with her famous bat bogey hex, immediately following with Expelliarmus before he could erect a strong enough shield.

Carmichael was the next to go, being hit by Luna's Furnunculus and letting his wand slip to the ground.

The two Hufflepuffs were fighting one another, and were too distracted to stop Malfoy's cutting charm. They each began to bleed, and it was easy for him to summon their wands from their hands.

Ginny and Malfoy were quickly at one another's throats, casting curse after curse in a brightly coloured display, each of them missing their mark or rebounding off a well cast shield.

Neville and Luna were duelling one another on the other side of the podium. Their spells were cast with less malice, but no slower. Both found themselves sticking to Expelliarmus and Protego, the minimum that would keep them in the competition.

Ron was enjoying Malfoy looking so flustered, especially since it was his little sister who'd caused the burns on his arms, and the scratches on his cheek. His hair was something of a mess. Ginny was no more unscathed, with burns across her shins and slashes across her arms, though the tight braid she'd forced her curls into before class stopped her from looking quite so dishevelled.

In the other battle, Neville managed to get an Expelliarmus around Luna's shield, taking her out of contention. He stopped for a moment, catching his breath and deliberated between letting Ginny and Malfoy duke it out and taking on the winner, or getting in there. Neither of the remaining participant had yet noticed his presence so he was at leisure to decide. Finally, he cast Tarantallegra at Malfoy, and Ginny used Expelliarmus, and Malfoy was finally out.

It was down to Ginny versus Neville, something Ron hadn't predicted. He'd actually expected Terry Boot to last longer than he had, but it was of no surprise to him that his sister was a fierce duellist. Neville, Ron knew, was often underestimated, so it was perhaps fitting that he was here in the end.

Ginny had no qualms about using more vicious curses on Neville, and he quickly had to adapt his battle style, blocking her blasts of flame with walls of ice that broke into pieces to slash at her face. Knowing that Neville could be clumsy, Ginny set about placing potholes in his path by blasting away sections of the mat. Unable to stop himself, Neville did fall to the mat, but maintained a tight grip on his wand, so he was ready when Ginny tried to Expelliarmus him. The power of his Protego protected him, and bounced Ginny's wand from her hand. Neville had managed to beat Ginny from the floor!

There was stunned applause from the crowd, who quickly began chattering to one another.

Ron was almost speechless, so Hermione announced the winner, before quickly tending to Ginny and Neville's injuries. Malfoy had already been patched up by Pansy Parkinson, and the others didn't have injuries worth healing. The rest of the students began heading down to the Great Hall for lunch.

At the end of it, despite receiving numerous requests from students wanting to leave the lowest group and Malfoy grumbling that the final fight had been rigged, Hermione was actually quite pleased with the results of their first DA lesson. She hadn't even considered that having the students fight one another would turn into a bonding experience. Even she couldn't wait until next week.

x X X x

A/N: The second half of this chapter was taking so long to write, and then I got into the first duel and it was easy after that. It almost wrote itself. That said, I haven't bothered to read this again so any "that sentence doesn't make sense" reviews would be quite useful.


	8. Transferral

**Time and Again**

**Author's Note: **Okay, so pretty much everyone hates the Ron/Hermione bits and I am not actually offended at all if you don't read them. In my mind each "chapter" is more like two chapters and I find the Tom/Harry bits to be complete in themselves. I just don't want more people complaining about them because I thought it was important for everyone to realise that Ron and Hermione in the present know about Tom/Harry and I'm not going to change it.

In conclusion: The R/Hr parts of the chapter are staying, but you don't have to read them. And actually, they'll disappear about two-thirds of the way through the story. No more complaints about that, but you're still free to complain about anything else.

**Chapter 7 - Transferral  
**

_October 1944_

"You didn't let me explain," called Riddle, chasing Harry down a corridor during lunch.

Harry frowned. He'd been planning to return to the Room of Requirement for his wand. He had hoped to get one before he faced Riddle again and had been counting on Riddle's vampiric nature. "That's because I don't care. Don't you have anything better to do than stalk me?" Harry crossed his arms over his chest, once again defensive in Riddle's presence.

"I have plenty to do," retorted Riddle. "But I might change my plans if you tell me they're going to go horribly wrong." He smiled a mega-watt smile.

It should be illegal for any British orphan to have teeth that white, noted Harry sourly. He wondered how soon he'd learnt the teeth whitening charm after entering Hogwarts. "Your plans are going to go horribly wrong," Harry deadpanned. The truth was, besides the minor setback of wandering around body-less for thirteen years, Riddle's plans seemed to be succeeding. Yet another reason for Harry to go back to his own time. Dumbledore needed to tell him what he knew.

Riddle caught that look. Perhaps Harry had broadcast it to every Legilimens in the area. "Somehow, I just don't believe you." His smile widened. "I do succeed, don't I?"

"How am I supposed to know, Riddle? I don't know everyone's future."

"Ah, but you do know mine."

Harry refused to let Riddle know how right he was. He met Riddle's gaze and did not back down.

"I don't understand you," mused Riddle, once again examining Harry as though he were a puzzle, an enigma. "You must know what I do in the future. Who I become. Yet, you're not afraid of me."

"I wouldn't give you the satisfaction."

"Perhaps," said Riddle, leaning close. Too close. "I like the idea of you not being afraid of me."

"Maybe I have good reason to not be afraid of you. Maybe I know how to stop you."

"Maybe you do," conceded Riddle, then he whispered into Harry's ear. "But I don't think you will."

A spark of rage jolted through Harry's body. "You're a monster."

"I'll take that as a compliment. Besides, _Evan_," he drawled the name as though he found it amusing. "You're not a monster. So you could never stop me."

And for the first time since Harry arrived in the past, Riddle was the one to walk away. Harry remained behind, clenching his fists and gritting his teeth.

"What was that all about?" Etienne asked, coming up behind Harry.

"I hate him," Harry muttered, murder in his eyes.

"What does he have on you?" asked Etienne, almost to himself.

"Nothing," Harry said, hoping it was true. Nothing but his wand, as far as he knew. Then he noticed the look on Etienne's face. It was empathetic. Too empathetic. "Riddle has something on you?" It came out as a question abruptly, but Harry already knew it was true. He thought he might explode from all the anger he was feeling toward Riddle. "Can you tell me? I want to help."

Etienne shook his head. "No one can help me now."

It tore at Harry's heart, to know that Riddle was ripping lives apart. To be able to do nothing to stop it. "I might not have a want at the moment," said Harry. "But I'm more than capable of taking _him_ on."

"Forget I said anything," Etienne shook himself as though he too was going to forget. "And don't underestimate Riddle."

Etienne couldn't know that besides himself, Tom Riddle was the person Harry knew best in the school. "I know. He's more evil than anyone knows."

Etienne seemed a little confused by that statement, but shook it off, and the pair headed to lunch together.

x x x

The next day, Harry finally got a chance to visit the Room of Requirement again. If Harry was to be honest with himself, he was worried about what he might see in there, if he'd see Ron and Hermione. That had been the only thing stopping him from visiting last night. He wanted to know how his friends were, but more than anything he just wanted to be with them.

The most terrible homesickness had settled upon him. The sort of homesickness that you couldn't escape because you didn't even know if you could return home. Homesickness was a foreign feeling to Harry, as he'd never really had a home before Hogwarts. But at this moment, no matter how poorly they'd treated him, Harry would have loved to be with Dursleys. It was like wanting to return to a memory. Harry was no longer feeling the loss of Sirius now that he was here, because it was like Sirius was missing along with everyone else. Harry was aching for just a little piece of home.

As Harry paced in front of the room, he thought. But when the door appeared he couldn't bring himself to open it. The slightest touch would send Harry over the edge and he knew, with the way his mind was in such turmoil, that what waited on the other side was not a room full of wands, but instead phantoms. Painful, not-quite-ghosts of the future. It would be like looking in the Mirror of Erised. He'd waste away to nothing.

Part of Harry didn't want to betray Dippet by circumventing his decree of wandlessness. Part of Harry felt a strange loyalty to his wand. His wand, the one that Riddle had, had seen him through triumphs and failures, and was his one reminder of his eleven-year-old self, who didn't yet know true fear, true pain or true suffering.

Too afraid of going insane, Harry went back to the dorm, promising to try again the next day. He dug parchment and a quill out of his school provided trunk, and began to write a letter. It was addressed to Ron and Hermione, but the fact that Harry wasn't sure whether they'd ever get it or not made it more like a diary entry. He detailed every little thing that had happened to him, and wrote down all the secret things that he'd never be able to tell anyone in this time. Things about Tom Riddle one day becoming Voldemort, and the fact that he had fallen into the past.

As Harry finished signing his name, someone else came into the room. It turned out to be Mihail, clutching a letter of his own to his chest. He jumped when he saw Harry. He'd probably forgotten that Harry even slept in the same dorm. But he ignored Harry and climbed onto his bed, drawing the curtains closed around him.

Respecting the other boy's privacy, Harry didn't ask him who his letter was from. Instead, Harry wondered what to do with his own letter. He managed to find an envelope in the trunk and sealed the letter with a small glob of red wax and the Hogwarts crest. He then slipped it between the covers of his Transfiguration book. Dumbledore didn't seem to like following the book, so Harry wouldn't need to bring it to classes. It sucked that Dumbledore wasn't keen on theory. It meant that Harry spent the lessons watching as the students around him practised. Harry wished that he could too, but even if he could get a wand he still wouldn't be allowed to use it during class. He'd only be able to secretly practise, and do the one thing that he really felt he needed a wand for: pointing it at Tom Riddle when he was being particularly irritating.

Harry was upset with how he'd acted during their last meeting. He'd let Riddle know information. It probably wasn't important, but it might give Riddle the confidence to do something particularly heinous on school grounds. After all, he's already gotten away with the murder of one girl. Harry hoped that Riddle knew it would be in his best interests not to arouse suspicion by killing now that Hagrid was gone.

And Harry was worried about Etienne. Now that he knew that he had dealings with Tom Riddle, Harry noticed how withdrawn Etienne was. He was no longer the pompous fellow that Harry had met on the first day. Perhaps something had happened over the weekend, but Etienne was as silent as Mihail most of the time, and often appeared agitated and lost in thought. The other boys had noticed, too, but put it down to moodiness. They thought it would ease off fairly soon. But Harry knew it was because of Riddle.

Harry wondered if he was being selfish by choosing to try to keep this timeline as close to the original as he thought. Maybe he should be working on stopping Riddle now, using whatever knowledge he had. Maybe that was why he'd been brought here. Who knew how many deaths he could stop? How many lives would be dramatically different if he just Avada Kedavra'd Tom Riddle today? Was it selfish to not change something in case you ended up with a worse life? In case you accidentally wiped yourself clean out of history?

But Harry knew that he couldn't just murder Riddle. Besides being difficult to pull of wandless, it wasn't honourable. the fact that Riddle was still young suggested that he could be changed, brought to a new way of thinking. If Riddle could be persuaded toward the light side, wouldn't it be better for everyone? They always did say that prevention was better than cure...

Harry was brought out of his thoughts by the sound of sniffling. It took Harry a moment to pinpoint the cause before he remembered that Mihail had come in. Harry took a clean handkerchief from his trunk, then headed toward the Bulgarian's bed. People should never have to suffer alone. He drew back the curtain slightly and wordlessly handed Mihail the kerchief. The other boy looked at him menacingly, as though waiting for Harry to mock him. Harry didn't say a word in response.

"I do not want you pity." Each word was pronounced carefully, around sniffles.

Harry invited himself in, sitting opposite Mihail on the bed. "It's not pity. It's sympathy. There's a difference."

"You cannot know how I feel."

"No," agreed Harry. "But it's not like I've never cried before. I can't know how you feel unless you tell me."

"I do not even know you," Mihail protested.

Harry shrugged. "Maybe that's best."

Finally, Mihail took the handkerchief and blew his nose. "Thank you."

They sat in silence for a moment longer before Harry decided to share a little of his history. "My parents died when I was one," he began. "They were murdered."

"Grindelwald?" asked Mihail.

Harry shook his head. "Another dark wizard. He was never caught."

"Grindelwald killed my father," Mihail confessed. "And crippled my sister."

Harry winced. "How old is she?"

"Eight years old in March. My mother does not let her out of her sight and she sent me here so that I might be safe." Mihail sighed. "But from here there is nothing I can do to help."

"I know the feeling," sighed Harry.

"Do you?"

Harry wondered how to explain without telling Mihail he was from the future. "My godfather had an accident. He tripped on a cliff and I watched him fall. There was nothing I could do to save him."

Mihail nodded. "My father died to protect my sister. Grindelwald toyed with her because she was born a squib."

Harry riled at the injustice of it. Why couldn't everyone accept that all people were people? Especially at this time when all over the world people were dying because of the way they looked. Harry clenched a fist. He couldn't do anything about Grindelwald. That was up to Dumbledore. Why didn't the man just get on with it? Grindelwald inspired hitler to in turn inspire masses to genocide. Yes, Grindelwald was powerful, but Dumbledore was Dumbledore. Harry knew he would win, even without history on his side.

And yet, Harry couldn't just go up to the Transfiguration professor and demand it. The past sucked. Harry wanted to go home.

x x x

_November 1944_

Harry wasn't sure if he was sub-consciously avoiding his room mates, or if it was them avoiding him, but he didn't see them often. Outside of classes and mealtimes and of course just before sleeping and after waking, he spent his free time by himself either studying or just thinking, hoping and wishing.

On this particular day, Harry found himself sitting by the lake, watching as the sun set over the forest. He was sitting on a rock, clutching his knees to his chest. Harry wondered how big Aragog's family was in this time. He observed the lake and wondered if the Giant Squid was in there. He hadn't caught a glimpse of it in this time. Perhaps it was a not-so-giant squid. Or perhaps Dumbledore rescued it from somewhere else and gave it a home later in the timeline. Things that Harry wouldn't think twice about back in his own past - i.e. the future - now occupied the bulk of his thoughts.

"You can be difficult to find sometimes." Harry recognised Riddle's voice behind him and he wondered what the other boy wanted now.

"I don't want to talk to you."

"You say something like that every time we meet, but we always end up talking."

Harry shrugged. "Whatever." The way he saw it, the more time Riddle spent wondering what was up with him, the less time Riddle was spending disembowelling muggles or whatever it was that he did.

Riddle sat down beside him. "I guess it's hard for you to be so far from home."

Harry was surprised by the level of sympathy in Riddle's voice. It immediately put him on guard. "Cut the crap, Riddle. What do you want?"

"Forgive me for wanting to get to know Hogwarts' newest enigma." And just like that, everything in their relationship was back to normal.

The words brought Harry back to first year, to his first potions lesson when Snape had called him a celebrity. What would Harry give to see even Snape's face again? He sighed. This Riddle was the most familiar person he had here, since Dumbledore was distant and strangely different from the grandfatherly old man that Harry remembered. But this Riddle, while unlike Voldemort, was familiar to Harry when compared with four years ago, to the manipulative boy he'd gotten to know through his diary, and in the Chamber of Secrets. Harry wondered where he kept the diary... since it preserved a copy of Riddle's sixteen-year-old self, he must have already created it.

Riddle poked him with one long slender finger.

"What was that for?" scowled Harry, rubbing his side.

"You aren't helping."

"Forgive me for not wanting to tell you anything that might affect my existence." Harry unknowingly echoed Riddle's earlier words.

"I doubt it," Riddle stated plainly.

"Doubt what?" Harry wondered.

"Logically, anything you do here was already done by the time you were born, so nothing should affect it."

"So if I killed you right now you wouldn't die?" Harry wondered about it.

Riddle smirked. "Maybe I'm impossible to kill."

"If you are," said Harry enigmatically. "Then so am I."

Riddle frowned. "What does that mean?"

Harry stood, brushing off his arse before walking away. "Maybe you'll find out some day."

Harry pondered Riddle's words. Could it really be true that nothing would affect his timeline? There was no way of testing it... the reason why no one used time travel spells that could take you back longer than a Time Turner. He still didn't want to risk it, so instead wrote another letter to Hermione and Ron. In less than a week he'd already written to his friends twice. This would be the third time. He never wrote to them this frequently from the Dursleys, and certainly not three times in a row with no reply. But though Harry knew his letters might make it to Ron and Hermione, they couldn't possibly send him a letter. Unless they had some of the same potion that Harry had fallen into. Even then, they probably wouldn't want to risk any letter they sent ending up in the wrong hands.

x X X x

_November 1996_

Snape was lecturing them. Ron wasn't listening, Hermione was indignant, and everyone else just seemed glad that it wasn't them that he was glaring at. He'd found out about the extra duel that had happened after he'd left and he was complaining that he'd be the one with his bollocks on the line if something had happened and that it must never happen again. Nothing had happened, so he should pretend as though nothing happened, but apparently Snape felt some sort of responsibility for them for once.

Hermione and Ron had asked the highest duelling group to stay back after their last DA meeting, so the eight of them were (in some cases impatiently) waiting for Snape to finish reaming them. Eventually realising that they weren't listening, Snape gave up. He let Hermione and Ron promise that it wouldn't happen again, then took points from Gryffindor. He then stalked back to his corner and eyed the lot of them suspiciously.

"Get on with it, then," Malfoy griped. "Some of us have things to do."

Ron had been very good about keeping his temper intact toward Malfoy since Harry's disappearance. Ron almost wished that Malfoy had screwed up his potion instead, then, at least, he wouldn't have to deal with him. He'd been doing a lot of biting his tongue and counting recently. Hermione seemed to like it, so he wasn't about to stop.

"Okay," Hermione said. "So some of the younger students have been complaining that we," she indicated to herself and Ron, "aren't really the best choice of teacher, and that maybe someone else should have been put in charge."

"That's not just the younger years," Malfoy retorted, obviously thinking that he was better.

"Anyway," she ignored Malfoy. "We were thinking that you might also want to teach a spell or two every now and then."

"So essentially you want us to do your work?" Malfoy muttered.

"It's not as if we get paid," Ron finally released his annoyance.

"Think of it as taking the opportunity to practise what you've learnt," Hermione tried.

"I'll do it," Ginny volunteered.

"People do say that the best way to learn something is to teach it," Neville put in.

The Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs agreed with that reasoning, and then it was only Malfoy left to convince.

He opened his mouth to suggest something, but Ron cut him off. "Nothing dark, nothing illegal."

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Like I'd want to let you lot know if I know any dark magic."

Ron rolled his eyes in return.

"Fine, whatever," Hermione dismissed. "You don't have to help. And you don't have to be here any longer."

Malfoy, despite a lack of verbal acceptance, did not get up to leave.

Ron hid a smile and silent victory.

"I want to know what spell you're planning on teaching before next week. Then the week after you'll be teaching the lower groups your spell. If you don't tell either of us next week, we'll take it that you don't want to teach."

The group, minus Malfoy, nodded in agreement.

"Great," Hermione said with a grin. "Let's go."

Malfoy was first out of the room, followed by the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws that Ron and Hermione were less familiar with. Hermione and Ron left with Ginny, Neville and Luna, and finally Snape left his self-appointed spot in the corner.

"Have any of you thought of a spell?" Hermione asked.

Neville shook his head. "Most of the spells I know I learnt from you guys."

"Well, we always have to pull them from books and learn them first," Hermione reminded them.

Ron turned to his sister. "Just please, don't teach them your bat-bogey hex."

Ginny grinned. "I wouldn't give up my signature spell just like that."

"When did you learn that thing, anyway?" Ron asked.

"A girl's gotta keep her secrets."

"I want to teach something useful," Luna said.

"Well good," Hermione said, pleased that Luna seemed to have caught the point of the exercise for once in her life.

"I know a wrackspurt repelling charm," Luna continued.

Hermione resisted the urge to hit her head against the wall. "Maybe you should think of something that would require less explanation."

"The charm's pretty simple," Luna said.

"Ah yes, but wrackspurts are very complicated," Hermione said. "It would take a long time to explain to everyone why it was important."

"True," Luna conceded. "People can be very close-minded."

Ron resisted the urge to laugh in her face and instead shared a look with his sister.

"It's a nice day," Neville said. "Do you guys want to eat lunch in the greenhouses? Greenhouse four has some really nice non-poisonous plants in bloom."

"That sounds nice," Ginny agreed, smiling at Neville.

"Yeah," Ron agreed. "Let's get the house elves to pack us a picnic lunch."

Hermione opened her mouth to complain but Ginny quickly snapped a hand over her mouth. "We'll go on ahead," she said. "You and Luna can get the food."

Part of Ron felt guilty as he raided the Hogwarts kitchen without Harry's help. Here he was having fun, and who knew what horrid things in the past Harry had to deal with.

x X X x

A/N: Not a long chapter, but I'm done making excuses for length. They'll probably all be this long, actually..


	9. Quidditch

**Time and Again**

**Author's Note: **Okay. I'm back. Sporadically, tentatively and all that. But here's a chapter and the next should be up in the next week or so. I haven't written much Harry Potter fanfic recently so this probably sounds completely different, but hopefully not. And thanks to everyone for a lack of Ron/Hermione complaints and for still being here to read this. I think this is about halfway through the story. So like, maybe it'll be complete in a year?

**Chapter 8 - Quidditch**

_November 1944_

The Quidditch match against Ravenclaw on Saturday was the most interesting game Harry had seen since his first one. The players' brooms weren't nearly as reliable or responsive so it really showcased the players' skills. It seemed as though each player had to choose which attributes they wanted their brooms to have because they couldn't have everything.

The Seekers seemed to have faster brooms and sacrificed stability. It was evident whenever the two Seekers had a chase then lost sight of the Snitch. They'd have to pull up and up and up to slow down and often looked to be barely hanging on when they went in for twists or dives.

The Beaters were the complete opposite. They had sturdy brooms that didn't accelerate as quickly as the Seekers' brooms but they were much more reliable, allowing the beaters to swing their clubs quickly from all angles without fear of falling off even as they stretched their limbs to the limit.

The Keepers favoured brooms with quick acceleration. The brooms might have been less accurate when turning, but their speed made up for that and would quickly place the Keeper in front of the hoop. Once there the Keepers were more likely to block with their bodies than actually try to catch the Quaffle and pass it to their Chasers.

The Chasers each seemed to be riding a different broom to suit their playing style and their position in formation. Harry saw that some of them had faster brooms and often threw the Quaffle at rocket speeds, others had slower, more stable ones and relied on their bodies to get them out of the way of Bludgers. Those on slower brooms would often merely catch a Quaffle and pass it on without travelling a great distance, like a netball player.

Harry was amazed. Sure, he'd learnt to ride on an old school broom that had seen better days, but it was perhaps ten years at the oldest. Fifty years in the past the brooms weren't nearly as streamlined and as the game went on, Harry noticed the tell-tale stiffening that each player went through as their cushioning charms ran out. And that turned it into a different game again as everyone picked up the pace to avoid massive broomstick-related wedgies. It seemed as though every player was on the lookout for the Snitch and he thought he could see discreet hand signals when anyone other than the Seeker did spot it.

A jab of a thumb, one daring chase and the Snitch was in the Gryffindor Seeker's hand, even as his broom continued on its trajectory toward the ground before a teacher caught the Seeker with a quick spell, done so quickly it must have been expected.

Another difference was the commentary. Rather than the exuberance of Lee Jordan combined with Professor McGonagall's hasty reprimands and corrections, the commenting was rather a lot more like that of a test cricket match. Each goal was recorded as though it was gained with the ease of a single run and Harry didn't think it quite captured the spirit. Though most students seemed to be present at the game, many of them didn't seem to be experiencing Harry's level of enjoyment, especially in the Hufflepuff and Slytherin stands.

The crowd dispersed quickly after the final whistle was blown. No one seemed to want to hang about rehashing the final moments of the Seekers' chase. Some students barely stayed to hear the announcement of the final scores: Gryffindor 220, Ravenclaw 80.

As Harry left the stands with the rest of the Gryffindor sixth years, he was stopped by a tap on the shoulder. Harry turned to see Riddle. How unexpected. Actually, Riddle had never accosted Harry in the company of other students before. But when Harry turned back, he saw that they hadn't noticed he was gone at all. Harry looked back at Riddle reluctantly.

Riddle actually looked a little awkward. Harry hadn't thought it was possible for him to look anything other than poised. "I noticed that you were enjoying the game," said Riddle, locking eyes with Harry.

Harry was taken aback. Now that was unexpected. "So you're spying on me now?" he covered quickly.

"No!" Riddle denied immediately, catching the attention of the last of the crowd. Riddle noticed and grasped Harry's arm, steering him toward the shadow of the school rather than following the rest into the building itself.

Harry tensed, then relaxed when he realised that Riddle was just being his annoying self, and not his dangerous one. That didn't meant that Harry was completely unguarded, though.

"I've just been noticing you," said Riddle.

If Riddle was another boy, Harry might have been flattered. But since it was Riddle, Harry was just worried. He rolled his eyes, deciding he couldn't be serious. "You're going to have to do better than that to trick me into telling you anything."

Riddle scowled. "I suppose that's all you think of me."

Harry crossed his arms. "Let's not forget that I know who you are, Riddle."

"Do you really? Or do you just know who I'm going to become."

Harry wondered whether it would be worth revealing that he had met sixteen-year-old Tom Riddle. His mouth shot off before he'd finished thinking it through. "What makes you think I'm not aware of everything you've done in the past year or so."

"Everything?" said Riddle.

"You're lucky I'm not telling anyone about what I know."

"Is that so?" Riddle took a step, then two forward, back Harry against the stone wall of the castle. He leaned forward and whispered into Harry's ear. Harry's blood thumped loudly in his ears. "You're telling me a lot more than you think you are."

Harry's breath hitched and his pulse raced. He refused to give in. Harry had no idea what Riddle was playing at. Did Riddle really think Harry would fall for him so easily, knowing what he did? But Harry had seen first hand how girls swooned in his presence, how he had the staff wrapped around his little finger. "Maybe I'm lying."

Riddle stepped back abruptly, as though burned. Harry didn't think he'd ever understand Riddle. Sometimes he seemed more complicated than Voldemort. Harry shook those thoughts from his head. He _was_ Voldemort, no matter how complicated he was.

"Don't think this is over," Riddle snapped before walking into the building.

Harry took a moment to catch his breath. Should he follow Riddle? Surely anything he found out about him in the past would help Harry defeat Voldemort later. Harry entered the castle, but Riddle was long gone so Harry made his way back to the Gryffindor common room.

Harry wondered why Riddle had taken off so suddenly. Was it because he hadn't thought about what it meant for Harry to be lying? But surely even this Riddle wasn't stupid. He was Head Boy after all. So what else had happened that would make Riddle basically run away from Harry? He supposed he'd never know. In fact, he shouldn't even have been there to witness it. He was supposed to be in the future.

After each encounter with Riddle, Harry became more and more homesick. Riddle made Harry feel disjointed. Like there was something he was missing that was absolutely essential for survival. Like half of himself had been displaced by splinching. Harry didn't even know what that felt like, because he wasn't seventeen yet and wasn't old enough to apparate.

x x x

"Where have you been?" demanded Caspian as soon as Harry set foot in the common room. He was backed up by the other sixth year boys. All of them were staring at Harry as though they couldn't figure him out. Harry knew what that felt like.

Harry was immediately on the defensive. He couldn't let slip too much. These boys weren't his friends. They didn't have any business being accusing. "I don't know why it's any of your business," he said.

The other boys, mainly the British five, shared dark looks.

"You're part of our house," said Tony. "That means sharing in post-match festivities."

"So I missed the party. What's the big deal?" Harry honestly didn't think he and Riddle had spoken that long. "It can't have been very good since it is over."

Tony seemed to bristle at the idea that they didn't know how to throw a party.

"The big deal, as you put it," said Caspian, taking a step forward. "Is that we're not sure if we can trust you."

"Maybe you shouldn't," countered Harry. "I don't think the Headmaster does."

"You're supposed to be one of us," said Lev. "Regardless of what Dippet thinks."

"I never said that I wanted to run around with the rest of you boys all the time," said Harry.

"What do you even do all the time?" he asked. "There's nothing to do in this castle."

"I've heard rumours," Greg put in. "About you and Riddle."

Harry blazed with anger, though he wasn't quite sure what made him so upset. "What about me and Riddle?"

"That you've been doing things that men don't do with other men," Caspian spat.

Harry was confused as to where all this spite was coming from. "I don't understand why you're so upset with me."

"Upset?" said Caspian. "More like disgusted."

"Oh," Harry said, raising himself to his full height. "Well in that case I wish the rumours were true just so that I could shove it in your faces." They were so bigoted. Harry knew that in the past people were more close minded, but he'd never known this sort of prejudice to exist in the wizarding world. Not when something as simple as gender didn't stop the procreation of the species. Harry had even heard that those children who were conceived from same-sex pairings were considered more pure and magical because of their magical conception.

"I told you he wasn't seeing Riddle," Abe said disparagingly. It was clear that he wasn't impressed with his housemates.

"No," said Harry, but he felt the need to clarify. "But that doesn't mean that I'm not attracted to other men."

Caspian, Lev, Greg and Tony looked at Harry with utter revulsion. He didn't understand how he'd ever thought these boys were decent human beings like his friends back home. No further words were exchanged, and the four of them headed upstairs to the dorm. Harry would have been afraid of what they'd do to his belongings if he actually felt they belonged to him.

Harry eyed each of the remaining boys carefully. "Did that surprise you?" he asked.

"Yes," said Abe honestly, flopping back onto a couch.

Harry sat in a chair opposite him as Etienne sat beside Abe and Mihail picked an armchair.

"It was a very brave thing you did," Etienne said. "If my friends would turn against me so quickly I would not say a word."

"Well," said Harry. "They aren't my friends, are they? No one who turns their back on someone else for that can be a true friend."

"I can't believe them," Abe seemed more betrayed than Harry. But he had been friends with the other boys for far longer. He would have thought he knew them better than that. "I just can't believe this whole thing."

"Sometimes," said Harry. "When you think you know someone you really don't."

"They've been my best friends for years," said Abe, still flabbergasted. "I don't even want to look at them anymore. I just want to smack some sense into them." He punctuated his last statement by punching the pillow beside him. "They're basically saying they agree with the war. With everything else Grindelwald's been spouting."

Harry wasn't entirely certain what this war was about. But he'd heard that Grindelwald's politics were closely aligned with Hitler's. "I wish it was as easy as knocking sense into them," said Harry.

Etienne observed Harry ."You don't have feelings for Tom Riddle, do you?" he asked seriously.

Harry had no idea why he was blushing. Perhaps it was just that he was embarrassed to have his personal life scrutinised by someone he barely knew. It was why he'd never broadcast his sexuality back home. He didn't want to hear everything the papers had to say. He had a right to privacy. "If by feelings you mean hatred, then yes."

"I think," said Etienne. "That perhaps there is more to it than that."

"Now there's an understatement," Harry muttered to himself. But he wasn't about to tell these boys that he was from the future and prophesied to kill Riddle. He wished he could to show that he appreciated their support but this was too important. It was bad enough that Riddle knew. These boys who had nothing to do with it didn't need to know.

"Etienne, leave him alone," said Abe.

Etienne sighed. "I am merely concerned. Tom Riddle is not all that he appears to be."

"I can handle Tom Riddle," assured Harry. He'd been doing it his whole life, after all.

"Had you met Riddle before you came here?" Abe asked. "Because he's not the type to make friends in Gryffindor. And he does often talk to you."

"We are not friends," said Harry before answering the question. "No, we didn't meet before I got here." It was only half-truthful, but that was as close to the truth as he got these days. Sometimes he did want to just explain everything to Riddle, at least he could be completely honest with one person. But that would spell disaster for everyone in the world if Harry let his true identity slip. "Riddle's just oddly possessive because I fell into his cauldron and not someone else's."

"So," said Abe, changing the subject. "Anyone up for a game of gobstones? I don't know about you but I do not want to go up there while those four are in there. Who knows what they're up to?"

The other three boys agreed easily, sharing his sentiment and before long they had a good game going.

x X X x

_November 1996_

Ron had only just gotten used to his small amount of authority as a DA teacher before another responsibility was unexpectedly foisted upon him. Katie Bell had succumbed to a cursed piece of jewellery leaving the Gryffindor Quidditch team captainless, and therefore with even slimmer chances of winning the Quidditch Cup than ever.

Despite having watched a million Quidditch games in his lifetime, and having mind strategic enough to kick Harry's arse in wizard chess every time, Ron couldn't help but think that being captain was something a little out of his depth. He'd not been a member of the team long, and having mostly watched Chudley Cannons games, he was more familiar with the various different ways to lose than the ways to win.

It didn't help that the rest of the team didn't have much faith in him as Ron was the worst player on the team. He was inconsistent, his abilities changed as quickly as his moods. And with Harry temporarily out of the picture, Ron didn't have much reason to be in a good mood these days. Hermione of course, was his rock, and she was a consistent bright spot, but she rarely made it out to Quidditch practices, preferring to study or attend Slughorn's gatherings.

Ron knew that he needed to lift his game if he ever wanted to command their respect, so he enlisted Ginny's help. She was their best Chaser now that Katie was gone and Ron had a lifetime of appearing to suck in her eyes, so her opinion of him hadn't changed with his captaincy. The two of them would go out onto the pitch at all hours and Ginny would relentlessly throw Quaffles at Ron from every imaginable angle until he stopped thinking and mechanically caught and returned each one of them.

Then Ginny started to bring Dean Thomas to their sessions. At first this unnerved and infuriated Ron. What was his sister thinking inviting her boyfriend to their practices? But he had to admit the extra set of arms helped. With two of them going at him, Ron found it more difficult to predict when the shot was coming and who would be throwing it. He really thought he'd managed to get over his confidence problem. He was able to prove to the team that he deserved to be captain.

There was one other thing Ron learnt from his practices sessions with Ginny and Dean. Dean was actually a really good Chaser. Maybe not as good as Katie or Ginny, but at least as good as Demelza. It was a little strange considering Dean was muggleborn. Ron could still remember their first year lessons when Dean could barely fly a metre off the ground.

"How did you get so good?" Ron asked as they made their way back to the dorms after practice one evening when Ginny couldn't make it. "No offence," he added.

Dean wasn't offended. "There aren't many magical things you can do when you're muggleborn because of the underage magic laws. Quidditch is one of them, so that's how I keep in touch with the magical world all summer. Plus Seamus invites me over fairly often and we play against his cousins."

"How is Seamus?" asked Ron.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean," said Ron. "I'm about to give you the extra Chaser spot and I don't want Seamus cursing me while I sleep."

Dean stopped walking. "Really?"

"Yes," grinned Ron. "Practice is at seven tomorrow night. But don't think it's all fun and games. You'll have your work cut proving you belong. Everyone will think I'm just playing favourites since they don't really trust me as Captain. But I'm sure Ginny will be on our side."

"I'll prove them wrong," Dean said. He slapped Ron on the back. "Thanks mate. You won't regret it. And I'll make sure Seamus stays away from your bed."

Ron was pretty sure he'd made a good choice. All he had to do now was convince the team.

x x x

It turned out that the team didn't need much convincing once they saw Dean fly. All that practising with Ginny meant that Dean fit easily into the Chasers' formations. Opposition came instead from a different source, namely Cormac McLaggen and the others who'd been rejected from the team. They claimed Ron was playing favourites and didn't deserve to be on the team in the first place. And though Ron had already proven himself to the team (the only people who mattered), he couldn't help his blood boiling whenever he caught sight of that smarmy jerk.

It was only Hermione's level-headedness that stopped Ron from cursing McLaggen's tongue out of his mouth. She'd put her arm around him gently, and whisper that he'd show McLaggen on the pitch where it really mattered and that the other boy was merely jealous. McLaggen saw where Ron was now as where he would have been. Although had McLaggen taken the Keeper's spot it was unlikely he would have been made captain in light of Ginny's seniority. Regardless, it was the idea of McLaggen being jealous of Ron that really got Ron to back off. There was so rarely any reason for anyone to be jealous of Ron Weasley, the too-tall youngest son.

The sky was clear the day of their match against Slytherin and Ron could hardly eat in anticipation. It didn't help that more than one seventh year had loudly announced their intention to skip the match in favour of studying since no one liked to watch their team lose. Hermione tried to tell Ron they were just nervous about their NEWTs, but his confidence still took a hit. How could they play well if there was no one in the stands to cheer them on?

"You're still coming, aren't you?" Ron said to Hermione.

"Of course," she said. Ron really had no idea what he'd do without her. He never wanted to find out.

"Come on," said Ginny, standing up. "It's go time."

Hermione walked down with them and once Ginny had stepped into the changing room, she pulled Ron aside. "Good luck," she said with a smile and kissed Ron more fiercely than she ever had before. Ron's heart lightened with love for Hermione. It was just the confidence booster he needed. She always knew just what to do. Hermione ran off after that and left Ron floating on cloud nine. He walked into the changing room with a grin on his face. They were going to win this one for Hermione.

"Alright everyone," said Ron once everyone had changed. "I know a lot of negative things have been said outside this room and I'm not going to repeat any of them because it's all complete rubbish. We have a good team. Our Chasers work so well together it's like they think with one mind. Our Beaters can knock anyone of their broom and our Seeker, well, you're a slippery little bugger, aren't you Fyle? Untouchable." Their second year Seeker, Owen Fyle, blushed with the compliment. "We might not be the team everyone expected at the beginning of the year but we're just as good- maybe even better because no one expects us to win and we're going to do it anyway."

Ginny, their unofficial co-captain joined in. "Conditions look ideal and guess what? That Chaser Vaisey's too sore to play. Malfoy's gone off sick, too."

Fyle looked relieved at that information. He'd been terrified of going up against the Slytherin sixth year. Malfoy's reputation preceded him everywhere.

"They're playing Harper instead," continued Ginny. "And he's an idiot."

"Don't get too cocky though," said Ron to his Seeker. "Treat him exactly like you would Malfoy. He's a Slytherin too so he's not above doing anything to distract you."

Fyle nodded with determination. There was perhaps more pressure on him to do well in Harry's absence than there was for the others.

"Right team," said Ron. "Let's do this. Not just for us. Not just for the people out in the stands. Let's do this for Katie and Harry."

"For Katie and Harry!" the team chorused.

The rest of Gryffindor house must have heard the news about the Slytherin team too because it looked like everyone was in the stands, even the obnoxious seventh years. Ron wished he could see Hermione but his memory of the kiss would have to do.

Ron shook hands with Urquhart and they were off. Ginny managed to take the Quaffle first, scoring a goal before Slytherin's Keeper could blink. Ron grinned and cheered, but soon the ball was coming toward him. Vaisey's replacement had nothing on him though and Ron blocked easily, cutting short Zacharias Smith's rude commentary.

The Hufflepuff was as bad as a Slytherin, but it was easy for Ron to ignore what he was saying when he was playing so well. He only hoped the rest of the team was as thick-skinned. Ron laughed to himself. Who would have thought he would be the one worrying and not the one getting offended?

When he could, Ron kept an eye on Fyle. A lot of the Seeker's game was mental, designed to distract and confuse and as a younger student, Fyle was less equipped to deal with it. But he was a good Seeker, not great like Harry, but it helped that anything Harper said would be less personal than anything exchanged between Harry and Malfoy.

Ron was busy blocking a shot so he missed the Seeker's catch. Madam Hooch's whistle blew and it if wasn't for the roar of the Lions in the stands, Ron would have no idea who'd caught the Snitch. Ron high-fived his teammates, making sure to pay special attention to Fyle, but most of his attention was on the win. They had done it. Against everyone's expectations their second-string team had started the Quidditch season with a bang. When Harry and Katie came back they'd be well pleased with the effort everyone had made in their absence.

x X X x

A/N: I hate JKR's capitalisation of everything Quidditch. It gave my shift key a real workout.


	10. Christmas

**Time and Again**

**Author's Note: **Bah. I'm barely hanging on to this story's continuity so let me know if you see anything too strange. Next chapter should be up in about a week. Thanks for reading and reviewing!

And to whoever it was who reviewed and said the chapters weren't short. Well, this is what I like to call a decently sized one. And no that doesn't mean I just made the Ron/Hermione bit twice as long. If anything the Harry/Tom bit's twice as long... and full of goodness.

**Chapter 9 - Christmas**

_December 1944_

Since the blow up after the Gryffindor-Ravenclaw game (after which the other sixth year boys had set all of Harry's things on fire, including his bed), Harry had become closer friends with Abe, Mihail and Etienne. It had caused a division in the dorm, and in the Tower. Abe was adamant that he would never again speak to the other boys. It reminded Harry of all the times he and Ron had gotten into long arguments over things.

It wasn't all bad, though. After a long discussion with the Headmaster and their head of house, a second sixth year Gryffindor boys dorm had been formed. Dippet hadn't been quite convinced that the fire wasn't in some way Harry's fault, but did agree that perhaps having eight boys share a room was a little too volatile.

But with the division of the boys came what Harry thought must have been Hogwarts' greatest ever prank war. It was on the scale of what the Weasley twins, Ginny, Ron and Harry might have accomplished against the Marauders in their heyday if such a thing were possible. It wasn't safe to sit down unless you cast a long string of spells over your seat, and you had to do that quickly because it wasn't safe to stand in any space for too long.

Unfortunately Harry bore the brunt of the curses, being wandless. He had to rely a lot on Etienne, who was the best of his three allies with a wand. He could help plan pranks, but couldn't help in carrying them out. It made him long for the Marauders' Map and for the twins and Ron and even Ginny. Every day his homesickness took on a new form. Even the pranking, which should have been more distracting than anything, just made him long to leave. Even all the time spent in the hospital wing that was so like his own didn't detract from his homesickness.

Thankfully, more people seemed to be on Harry's side than the others'. If he got caught up one of the girls was likely to get him down, and Elise would give detentions to Lev, Tony and Greg as often as she could, and reward anyone helping Harry with points. Eventually the pranks subsided, though, as it became more and more obvious how one-sided the argument was, and as the third-party casualty list grew.

Tom Riddle, Harry found, was easier to get along with when the school was hot with temper. He didn't take either side, taking points and assigning detentions whenever he saw fit. Luckily he hadn't seen fit to punish Harry with some imagined offence or other, it would have drawn even more attention to him from the teachers than he'd already gained. They saw him as the root of the problem, the instigator, and because of it he was fairly certain he wasn't going to be allowed to have a wand any time soon, no matter how much he complained that it was hampering his study. They certainly weren't going to let him have one during the height of the prank war. One wand could make a large difference.

Unfortunately, when the boys had set fire to Harry's trunk (which he didn't otherwise care about), they'd also set fire to the letters that Harry had composed to Ron and Hermione. He wanted to set fire to all of their personal things after that. He wanted to scream. He wanted to tell every single one of them exactly who he was. But he restrained himself.

He just sat down one day and wrote another letter. An honest letter to Ron and Hermione because they were the only ones he could share himself with. And sharing himself entailed sharing his whole self.

_Dear Ron and Hermione,_

_There's no plainer way to say it than this: I'm gay. (Yes Ron that does mean I'm sexually attracted to boys, but not to you so don't worry about that.) I hate the fact that I have to tell you this in a letter you may never read. I regret not telling you in person because now you may never know, but I was just coming to terms with it myself. I wasn't ready then, but I am ready now._

_Unfortunately, I only became ready after I got here in the past. That's the way the world works, I guess. When you have almost nothing of your old life to hold onto, and no way of getting back to it, it really puts everything into perspective. My sexuality is the one thing I regret not sharing, so there it is._

_Hermione, of course, has probably worked out that there's a specific reason why I'm telling you both this now. It's 1944 and I'm sharing Hogwarts with war refugees and Tom Riddle himself. He, of course, isn't willing to believe that I'm a regular old evacuee, so tries to corner me at every moment. Rumours got out that we were involved (crazy, right?) and I came out to everyone here. It just doesn't seem fair that they know and you don't. They have no right to that knowledge, but you guys do. I just hope nothing about our relationship changes because of it._

_Unfortunately half of the boys here haven't taken kindly to the fact that I'm gay, so I've become something of a target, and without a wand (since Riddle stole mine) there's not much I can do to protect myself. But I'm used to people saying things about me behind my back and there are a bunch of people willing to reverse any spells. I'm not entirely alone even if it feels that way sometimes because I can't be entirely honest with anyone._

_You might be wondering why Voldemort never recognised me since I met him here, but the burns I got from falling into Riddle's cauldron when I arrived here are doing a good job of disguising me. I'll take a little disfiguration over being recognised any day. Seeing so much of him, I'm starting to really understand why he is who he is. Not that I condone it or anything. But I've always been able to see myself in him and lately I'm seeing more. I just hope I can figure out some way to make him less interested in me. I suppose that's too much to ask for. My life's been entwined with his ever since I was born. I'm not sure I can stay away from him._

_The teachers distrust me because of my unorthodox arrival, but I can't fault them for that. This is a war that no one can deny. Other than that I'm fine._

_I hope that I'm back home with you two soon. You have no idea how much I miss you and everyone and everything. Please don't worry about me. I'll be back before you know it. We'll see if you do a better job of recognising me than Voldemort did._

_Love always,  
Harry._

This time he didn't put the letter in his trunk. He kept it in his robe pocket, vowing that he'd take it with him and give it to Ron and Hermione himself.

x x x

"I would like to speak with you alone," Etienne said to Harry one afternoon. Harry looked around and the pair of them went into the nearest empty classroom.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked the boy who was quickly becoming his closest friend here. Harry was reminded of Hermione and how it was only after their encounter with the troll that they became friends. It had taken some time for Harry to get to trust Etienne and the rest of his new dormmates, but he hadn't regretted it yet.

"I saw you with Riddle again this morning," said Etienne.

Harry was confused. Etienne was on his side, wasn't he? "And?" he asked.

"I think there's something you should know."

Harry frowned and sat down on a desk. "I'm listening."

Etienne wrung his hands and looked away. Harry grew more concerned. Etienne didn't usually let his emotions show so obviously. He took a deep breath and began speaking. "I think you're getting in over your head."

"With Riddle?" What had they said that morning? As Harry recalled they'd had the usual argument about not wanting to talk, then Riddle had tried to get Harry to tell him something.

"Yes," Etienne said. "I'm not sure you realise what he's capable of."

"Oh I know," laughed Harry bitterly. "Murder at the very least."

Etienne paused. "I don't know what he's done to you, but you have to stop whatever revenge plan you've got cooked up. Stay away from him. He's too dangerous."

"Why?" Harry wondered. Etienne was too concerned. There had to be more to the story. "What did he do to you?" he asked once again.

For a long moment Etienne didn't answer. Finally he spoke. "It wasn't him; it was Grindelwald. And he didn't do it to me. It was my aunt."

Harry didn't say anything, urging Etienne to go on silently.

"They went to school together. And in their later years she developed a crush on him. It was more than just a crush, actually. It was an obsession. She had to be near him. Had to touch him." Etienne scowled. "He knew. He'd kiss her or sleep with her. Then he'd ignore her. It was all a game to him." Etienne sighed. "Eventually she lost reality. She insisted that he loved her. And then she got pregnant with his baby."

Harry couldn't contain his surprise, though it was the natural result of intercourse.

Etienne kept going. "That didn't sit well with him. The thought of his flesh and blood growing within my aunt's womb disgusted him. He didn't just want her to get rid of the baby. He told her to kill herself. And she did it."

The story was dark and depressing. Harry reached over and hugged Etienne. "Grindelwald has to be stopped." He felt another rush of anger against this time's Dumbledore. Why didn't he get over himself and just defeat Grindelwald?

Etienne tore himself away from Harry. "You do not understand. I did not tell you so that you would avenge her. I am warning you. I do not want that to happen to you."

Harry would have laughed if Etienne wasn't so deadly serious. "I'm not in love with Tom Riddle. There's a fat chance of that ever happening."

Etienne looked at Harry. So closely that Harry wanted to squirm away. "I think it is too late for you," he said. "I can only pray that Riddle is not as bad as he appears."

Harry frowned, not liking the idea one bit. "I don't like Riddle." So why did he feel like he was denying some part of himself every time he said it?

x x x

Harry wasn't just sure if it was because of Etienne's accusation, but he found himself increasingly aware of Riddle and himself, and their interactions. There was no way Harry could deny Riddle's attractiveness. That was part of what made him so evil. Except for what seemed to be an increasing minority of students, most people in the school were utterly enchanted by him. Riddle had this following of girls who giggled and tried to catch his attention wherever he went. And he didn't always ignore them. Like a good politician he remembered their names and treated them with respect, and made sure never to get too close.

Riddle didn't exactly have any friends, but Harry sometimes saw him talking to a group of mostly Slytherin boys. Harry could be pretty sure that they would become his first group of Death Eaters. Harry didn't want to get anywhere near them. But most of the time Riddle was alone. The only person he deliberately sought out was Harry. What was it that attracted him to Harry? It seemed it didn't matter what time they were in or how old either of them were, they just couldn't keep away from each other.

Harry was beginning to acknowledge that it was as much his fault as Riddle's when they interacted. That had never been clearer than during the debacle at the Department of Mysteries at the end of his fifth year. Harry didn't think he'd ever be able to forgive himself or Voldemort for Sirius' death. That was why Harry knew he had to stay away from Tom Marvolo Riddle.

But no matter how many times he told himself that, Harry caught himself watching Riddle whenever he saw him. He couldn't help noticing the way the light reflected off Riddle's skin, or the way the tendons in his neck moved. His skin was so pale and Harry just wanted to mar it with a love bite. He wanted to know just how pale the skin under his shirt was, and Harry found himself fixated upon Riddle's long slender fingers more often than not.

It was always the simplest things that set Harry off. Riddle would just have to point to someone while assigning detention. Or bring his fork up to his mouth. Or turn a door handle. He wanted to suck each digit into his mouth and watch to see if the expressions on Riddle's face would change. He wanted more than that. He wanted to feel those fingers where only his had gone before... and where even he had never dared intrude.

It worried Harry. He knew, beyond what Etienne had related about his aunt, that Tom Riddle would try to kill him more than once, and, well, Riddle was fifty years older than he was. Riddle could never find out about Harry feeli- _thoughts_. Riddle would certainly never be able to reciprocate. Harry couldn't let Riddle have anything more on him than he already did.

Harry had been in the past for a couple of months now, and Riddle had never gone more than three days without talking to him. Harry hated that he knew. Hated that he'd noticed. Because of that, Harry was torn between confusion and anticipation when he ran into Riddle a week after he'd spoken with Etienne.

"Hello Evan," greeted Riddle.

Was it Harry's imagination or did his voice sound breathier? "Yes, Riddle?"

"I've been thinking over the past week."

Being so near Riddle was agitating Harry. With a week of non-contact, he'd grown unused to talking to the Slytherin. "Just spit it out," said Harry.

Riddle darted a look left and right to make sure that no one was watching them, then quickly pressed a kiss to Harry's mouth. Before Harry even know what was happening, one of Riddle's elegant hands was tangled in his hair, the other was cupping Harry's arse, lifting him slightly so that he had no need to bend down. Then Riddle's tongue began probing Harry's mouth and the spell was broken.

Harry shoved him away, wincing as a hair or two went with Riddle. He crossed his arms over his chest and took a couple of steps away. Tom Riddle, the soon-to-be-murderer of his parents had just kissed him. Harry tried to get his breathing under control and failed. He was on the verge of a panic attack.

Why had Riddle done this now? Because Harry had come out and he'd wanted to before? Because everyone already thought they were together? Because he thought that since Harry was gay he was automatically attracted to Riddle? The only way Harry could think to play it was that Riddle wanted to use him somehow.

But Riddle had kissed him like he meant it. Harry knew now better than he ever had before, just how easily Riddle would become Voldemort, the most feared dark wizard of all. Harry had every reason to hate him, yet couldn't help but think that he would be ensnared if he stayed here much longer. He hated himself for his weakness. The weakness that would see him asking why rather than just walking away.

"What the hell was that?" asked Harry.

"A kiss of course," stated Riddle looking far too pleased with himself for someone who'd just been rejected. He clearly thought it would only be temporary. "I suppose you're familiar with them from your own time."

"Of course I know what a bloody kiss is," said Harry. "And why did you feel the need to kiss me?" Harry squeezed himself tighter so he was more hugging himself than crossing his arms.

"I've been wanting to do that since you landed in my cauldron and I got the most glorious view of your arse."

Instinctively Harry's hands flew to it, to defend it from Riddle's lechery. That was all it was. Lust. Harry couldn't control the blood that rushed to his cheeks at the thought of Riddle finding that particular body part of his attractive.

"Why now?" he asked.

Riddle shrugged. "The furore's died down. Now seemed as good a time as any."

"And what about how you said you weren't like that?"

"It's important to keep everyone guessing." Oh was that all?

"Right," said Harry, trying to regain some dignity. "Well in future, I'd appreciate it if you kept those thoughts- and your body parts- to yourself." He emphasised the point by finally getting to put one foot in front of the other, walking away still clutching his behind.

"I love it when you walk away," Riddle called after him.

Harry ran away after that, ducking around the nearest corner. More than ever Harry wished he could go home to a Voldemort who wanted to kill him. He could deal with that one.

x x x

It was winter break before long, and Harry managed to avoid Riddle. It was almost as if the other boy was giving him space, which was a puzzle in itself. One Harry didn't want to dwell to much on.

Among other things Harry didn't want to dwell on was the fact that he'd be spending winter break at Hogwarts, instead of at the Burrow with the Weasleys as he'd thought he might get to this year. Instead he, Etienne and Mihail had to make the most of their situation as Abe and the other sixth year boys all went home. He gave them all the same excuse about it being too dangerous.

The three remaining tried to do as many Christmas traditions as they were used to. They went out and got a tree together and decorated it with parchment decorations that Etienne charmed to sparkle and change colours. Harry wished he could learn that charm, but he was still wandless. He doubted that would ever be changing... not unless he could somehow use Riddle's supposed affections to get it back.

As the last Hogsmeade weekend before Christmas passed Harry by, he realised just how much of his existence was provisional to Dippet's whims. Harry didn't have access to his own vault of course, and they didn't give him any sort of allowance so he was penniless. For the first time since he turned eleven he was entirely relying upon the generosity of other people. So for the first time since he turned eleven, he was unable to buy Christmas presents.

If Dippet had seemed more sympathetic Harry would have explained the situation to him, but the headmaster seemed to care little for him. Harry couldn't really blame him. After all he had a roof over his head, clothes, a bed to sleep in, food to eat and the opportunity to learn, all for free. Why should he be given anything more than the necessities?

Harry was the most homesick he'd ever been. It didn't help that Mihail, Etienne and seemingly every other student who was staying over the break all seemed homesick as well. Harry wanted to make some huge gesture, but he knew the best he should have been able to accomplish was little presents for his dormmates. Harry knew the war would be over soon, but no one else had that luxury. He wished someone did. He had no idea when his own war in the future would end and he wished he did.

The day before Christmas Harry had his problem solved. A chance walk down the seventh floor corridor and Harry found himself trying the Room of Requirement. As he paced he begged for presents for his friends. When Harry went inside, the Room was decorated for a party. There was no food, but cheery carols were playing and taking pride of place was a gigantic Christmas tree, ten times larger than the one his roommates had found. Underneath it several brightly coloured packages. Harry read the labels and besides the ones for Etienne, Mihail and Abe, there were ones for Ron and Hermione, Ginny, Neville and Luna, Dean and Seamus, the rest of the Weasleys, Lupin and Tonks and Hagrid and Dumbledore. His entire Christmas list. Harry almost broke down right there. He did cry a little, he couldn't help himself. He only hoped that these presents would find their way to their intended recipients. Harry wished he could deliver them himself, but the Room's magic didn't extend that far.

Then a glint of silver caught Harry's eye. It was one more present that he'd missed in his initial inspection. It was a small silver wrapped box tied with a green bow addressed to Tom Riddle. Harry didn't think he'd wanted to give a present to him, but there it was all the same, twinkling merrily away and daring him to deny its existence. Harry's cheeks reddened in mortification. Riddle could never know that Harry had wanted to give him a present. He didn't have feelings for Riddle. No matter how good that kiss was.

Harry gathered the presents for his roommates, and tucked the extra one into his robe pocket. He couldn't leave it in here where it might get sent to its destination. Harry went straight to the Owlery to post Abe's present. He wondered if he lived in the Burrow. Harry didn't know, but he knew the owl would know regardless of how it was addressed.

As Harry made his way back to Gryffindor tower he ran into Riddle. Harry should have expected that because with fewer people in the castle, he saw Riddle more often. Most of the time Harry could easily escape from him, but the brightly wrapped presents he was holding attracted more attention. Harry reddened cheeks he tried to tell himself were from cold. He had no explanation for the tightening of his groin so he ignored that action. One of these days Harry was going to push Riddle into a boiling cauldron and see where that got him.

"What do you want?" Harry asked tiredly, hoping Riddle couldn't see the obvious bulge his present was making in Harry's pocket.

"I'm just saying hello," said Riddle. "Are those Christmas presents?"

Harry looked at Riddle as though he was an idiot for asking.

Riddle had the decency to look a little embarrassed. Harry wondered why. "Just the two?" asked Riddle. Harry could see that he was trying to read the labels from where he was. Harry wasn't sure whether he'd succeeded.

"Yes," said Harry. He wished he'd had a wand so that he'd have been able to shrink the presents so that Riddle wouldn't see them.

"And none for me," said Riddle.

"Sorry," said Harry.

"Yes," said Riddle, obviously jealous. "You will be."

Harry hoped Riddle hadn't actually been able to read the name tags. He didn't want Mihail and Etienne to be the subject of Riddle's irrational jealousy. He'd likely try to enact his revenge or something.

Riddle shoved past Harry. He was surprised he hadn't done anything more than that. It could only spell disaster for later.

x x x

On Christmas Day, Harry, Mihail and Etienne awoke with more joy in their hearts than they'd had when they'd gone to bed. The house elves had piled all their presents under their tree and Etienne took charge, handing them out. They each had one from Abe and from each other. Etienne and Mihail also had presents from their families. Mihail had one from his girlfriend, Sherman, that Etienne teased him about. They were both polite enough not to mention the fact that Harry's family hadn't sent him anything. Instead they focused on the presents Harry had gotten for them.

Etienne's present was a silver quill and inkwell set. It looked rather grandiose but was still functional. Like Etienne himself. "I've never seen anything like it before," said Etienne. There was a question in his eyes, but Harry didn't reveal his secret.

For Mihail the room had provided a charmed model of a dragonfly made of gold with ruby wings. It fluttered about and followed him around. Mihail smiled and thanked Harry. Mihail had wanted a real pet, but the Room gave as close as it was able.

From Etienne, Harry received a bag of Bertie Bott's Beans and a spinning top that whistled or blew bubbles or flashed depending on which way you spun it. From Mihail were some sugar quills and edible inks. Besides being flavoured, the inks were good for making notes on your hand or arm as they stayed in place until you licked them off, with no risk of poisoning. From Abe Harry got a a deck of exploding snap cards in a decorative case.

Harry appreciated all of his presents, but figured it was highly unlikely that he'd be able to take them with him back to the future. Luckily half the stuff was edible and could therefore be enjoyed while he was still trapped in the past.

The meals the Hogwarts elves served were suitably festive. The entire castle's mood seemed to lift as the day progressed. Everyone, it seemed, but Tom Riddle. Today the tables in the Great Hall were smaller and not arranged by house, and Riddle sat by himself, staring at Harry the entire time out of the corner of his eye. Harry wondered if he'd received any presents at all and for the first time in a while he pitied Tom Riddle.

Harry couldn't remember having transferred Riddle's present from yesterday's robes to today's (he wore robes every day now as he hadn't been given any muggle clothing), but he could feel the little box's weight in his pocket, far heavier than it had any right to be. Harry half-wondered what was in it. The rest of him had a pretty good idea, but denial seemed to be a good place to be right now. The idea terrified him. He didn't want to feel that way for Riddle. And he certainly didn't want Riddle to know.

But after lunch, Harry sent Mihail and Etienne on without him and found himself approaching Riddle. The taller boy eyed him suspiciously.

"What?" he asked.

"Uh, merry Christmas," said Harry, not knowing what else to say.

"For you, maybe," said Riddle. "I saw you over there with those Gryffindors."

Harry couldn't help but think that Riddle sounded like a petulant child. Harry stuck his hands in his pockets and fingered the box. Just because he was over here didn't mean that he had to give it to Riddle. "The day is what you make of it," said Harry. "I could have moped around about being stuck here instead of with my real friends, but I didn't."

"Is that what you think I'm doing? Moping?"

"Yes," said Harry.

"Fine," said Riddle. "Merry Christmas."

A grin stretched across Harry's face. It was absurd, really, but coming from Riddle the words actually meant something. Harry's smile widened when he realised that Riddle was actually smiling back. A change of expression really did make Riddle ten times more attractive. It really wasn't fair that one person should be so good looking and so evil. Then Harry remembered what had happened to Riddle's good looks after Wormtail resurrected him and decided that it might be fair after all. He grimaced.

"What happened to your smile?" asked Riddle, his own dropping from his face.

"Nothing," said Harry, forcing himself to grin again.

"That's not it," said Riddle. He looked at Harry and seemed to make a decision. He slid his hand into his robes and pulled out a wand. _Harry's_ wand.

Harry trembled, wondering what Riddle was doing. He was startled when Riddle merely held it out to him, handle first.

Harry took it, feeling a jolt of recognition and power running through him. He looked up at Riddle feeling rather more grateful than he should have, considering Riddle was the one who'd taken it in the first place. But this was as good a Christmas present as Harry could have hoped for. He once again had a little piece of home to carry with him.

"Thank you," said Harry. Riddle had now taken the decision from Harry's hands. A gift deserved a gift in return. "Here," said Harry reluctantly, slipping the box from his pocket and handing it to Riddle.

Riddle actually seemed surprised. Harry grinned again. Riddle had given him a gift and expected nothing in return. _That _was a Christmas miracle indeed. And because today was Christmas, Harry didn't second guess what Riddle hoped to achieve by giving Harry back his wand.

Riddle opened the box and Harry stood by nervously. Inside the first was another box, a jewellery box as Harry had expected. Riddle caught Harry's eye and he blushed. Harry's heart beat furiously inside his chest. Riddle pulled out a plain silver chair, on the end of which hung an ouroboros pendant. Most people would just see a snake eating its tail on the necklace, but Harry knew that the pendant was actually a ring that he was pretty sure would fit over Riddle's ring finger perfectly as a promise. Harry hoped Riddle only saw the ouroboros.

Riddle eyed it with a possessive glint in his eye, watching as the pendant turned and sparkled in the light from the nearest torch. He didn't say thanks to Harry, but Harry knew he appreciated it. He only hoped he didn't appreciate it too much. Harry didn't think he was prepared for that. Riddle slid the necklace over his neck and stared at Harry. Harry took off before Riddle could get it into his head to kiss him again.

x X X x

_December 1996_

Ron felt disconnected rather than joyful when Christmas rolled around. For starters, Harry wasn't there, but Ron was getting used to missing Harry. And for seconds, Hermione would be going home to her own parents, and Ron didn't want to get used to missing both Harry _and_ Hermione. But she and he had agreed that there was no use sitting around missing Harry when he was okay for the time being.

Plus, Hermione had discovered that Ron had yet to tell his parents about their relationships and had basically demanded that he do it over the break lest she begin to think blood did matter to him and that he was ashamed of her. That was of course the entire opposite of what he felt, and what she knew he felt. Still, she'd been a little insecure about their relationship ever since Ron's Quidditch win as Lavender Brown and several other girls had started showing an interest in him.

Ron and Hermione had had their own Christmas celebration the night of Slughorn's Christmas party and the memories of that night would hopefully hold him over until they met again.

It turned out that Ron didn't have to tell his parents about dating Hermione. Though Ginny had refrained from relaying the information in any of her letters home, she had no such qualms about telling the twins to their faces and once Fred and George knew, everyone knew. Mrs Weasley had hugged Ron so tightly he was surprised he was still in one piece. He shouldn't have been surprised since she actually liked Hermione a lot more than she did Fleur.

Then Ron had to sit through an uncomfortable talk with his father about sex and birth control which was a little late. It was made more uncomfortable by the fact that it was unexpected and he was half asleep at the time. Mr Weasley had been working late most nights and actually woke Ron up specifically to talk to him. Then Ron had accidentally mentioned condoms and had his father asking him all sorts of questions about muggle birth control that he didn't know much about.

Christmas just didn't feel like Christmas this year. Ron's mother seemed to be trying to keep him busy to get his mind off Harry being missing. No one seemed to want to talk about the war with Ron which irked him. He was almost seventeen. They really had to stop treating him like a child... a child who didn't know that Harry was their only hope and that Voldemort had stepped up the attacks since he'd gone.

x x x

Ron and Ginny were sharing a room unofficially since Fleur was meant to be in Ginny's room, and Bill with Ron. Ginny couldn't stand Fleur, so she'd switched with Bill under their parents' noses. So on Christmas morning, before anyone else had awoken, the two youngest in the house got together to start opening their presents. Hermione had given Ron a fancy wristwatch that he put on immediately to Ginny's amusement. The strap was the exact shade of Hermione's hair and he stroked it gently, wishing she was with him.

"What did you get from Dean?" he asked Ginny, looking through her parcels to see if he could steal it away. He frowned when he saw the label on one of them. "Does that say 'From Harry'?"

Ginny snatched the gift and Ron went looking for his own. It was a blue wrapped present, which he should have noticed first as it was his largest present. He'd been saving it for last.

"They can't actually be from Harry, can they?" wondered Ron.

"Better safe than sorry," said Ginny, gingerly holding the package as though it might explode at any moment. "I doubt these have been checked by the Secrecy Sensor."

Ron frowned. For once couldn't things be easy? He hefted his present, and took Ginny's from her, just in case. Together they went to see their parents.

Mr Weasley and Remus Lupin cast every sort of detection spell on them that they could. It turned out that everyone else had a present from 'Harry' as well. Fred and George had opened theirs without thinking and so far their contents seemed safe. Nothing more than a few old-fashioned fireworks and a book of charms published in 1938.

"Couldn't they be from Harry?" said Ron. "We know he's in the past and those are old presents."

"It's starting to seem more likely," said Lupin. "Though we cannot be too careful in these times." They used magic to unwrap the rest of the presents, so that they could examine them further.

Ron's eyes immediately travelled to his. It was a Firebolt. And if he wasn't mistaken it was _Harry's_ Firebolt. "How could Harry have possibly sent his Firebolt from the past?"

"Maybe he did it before he left," suggested Mrs Weasley. No one wanted to contemplate what it would mean if the gifts weren't from Harry.

"Why would Harry give me his broom if he didn't know he was leaving?" said Ron. "He'd need it himself."

The fireplace flared and out stepped Snape, a quick swirl of his robes and they were spotless. He looked very put upon. But why would Snape want to visit the Weasleys any day of the week? His lips curled with distaste as he said, "The headmaster has sent me to inform you that if you did receive anything from Potter it did indeed come from him."

It hadn't occurred to anyone that this would be one of those times when Dumbledore was immediately contactable. But since he hadn't come himself and had instead sent Snape, he probably was too busy to deal with them. Or ill. No one wanted to consider that option.

No one had anything to say to Snape, so he excused himself. As he turned to leave, Mrs Weasley invited him to join them for Christmas lunch to Fred and George's dismay. With the time Ginny and Ron had now spent with Snape and the DA, their respect for him had increased. They didn't mind being in his presence so much. If Ron was honest with himself, it helped that Harry wasn't around to accuse Snape of something sinister every time they saw him.

"No thank you," said Snape, beady eyes focusing on the twins. "I must return to Hogwarts." Snape left.

The twins didn't stick around for two seconds before they grabbed their presents and ran into the backyard to test them out.

"Can I have your old broom?" Ginny asked as Ron put his hand on the Firebolt. Ron's broom was slightly less battered than Ginny's, though they'd both belonged to the twins and were the same age and model.

"As a loan," said Ron. "Harry's going to want this back."

Ron penned a quick note to Hermione to tell her about the presents, then went outside. He spent the next hour or so on Harry's broom, dodging the fireworks the twins shot at him. Mrs Weasley had trouble calling her younger sons in for lunch over the noise of the rockets, but their stomachs soon rumbled alerting them of the time. They raced each other inside and were soon pacifying the appetites they'd racked up that morning.

Halfway though the meal they were interrupted by surprise guests: Percy and the Minister for Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour. The Minister made excuses for their presence, saying that Percy insisted on seeing them. But everyone with the last name Weasley knew that wasn't true. The Minister's eyes swept over the room as he spoke, and Ron knew he was looking for Harry.

Out of politeness, Mrs Weasley invited the Minister to join them and he did.

"Is everyone here then?" he asked. "The whole family?"

"Yes, Minister," said Mrs Weasley. "Now that Percy's joined us." She went about introducing everyone.

Ron couldn't help but notice the calculating stare Scrimgeour fixed upon him when he was introduced. He prepared himself to give nothing away about Harry's whereabouts. Outside of the Hogwarts staff, the only people who knew where Harry really was were the Order of the Phoenix and Ron and Hermione. Even Ginny didn't know, though she knew her brother knew and was therefore unconcerned.

"Ronald and Ginevra?" said the Minister, looking at the two of them. "You accompanied Harry Potter at the Ministry earlier this year, didn't you?"

"Yes," said Ron simply.

"Anyone you read the Prophet knows that," said Ginny.

"Good friends of his, aren't you? Percy tells me he used to catch you out often."

"Percy," said Ron. "Likes rules a lot better than we do."

"I imagine so," said Scrimgeour. "And where is young Harry? I would have thought he'd be spending the holiday with you."

"He's busy," said Ron.

"He's still underage, isn't he?" said the Minister. "I'd hate to think the poor boy was being exploited when he should be having fun with his school chums."

Well, thought Ron. If the Ministry could find him, they could go ahead and punish someone. "Dumbledore's giving him private tutoring," fibbed Ron. "He'll take his NEWTs next year, same as everyone else."

"Ah yes, Dumbledore," said Scrimgeour, as though referring to the next item on his agenda. "How is he? I hear he has spent an awful lot of time away from school this year."

"No more than usual," said Ron.

After a few more pointed questions and blunt answers from Ron and Ginny, it became obvious that there was nothing more that would be said. The Minister ran through a quick, disingenuous apology for disturbing their meal and departed with Percy in tow.

"Good riddance," said Fred.

Mrs Weasley hugged Ron and Ginny to herself. "You did well," she said. "But in normal circumstances I can't say I will condone lying to the Minister."

Ginny rolled her eyes, but Ron was thoughtful. "He came to visit us and didn't find Harry. You don't think he'd go to the muggles, do you?"

Mrs Weasley went pale.

"I'll write to the Headmaster," Lupin volunteered.

"He'd have to, wouldn't he?" said Ginny. "If he was thinking of charging Dumbledore with exploitation or something. They'd have go to his legal guardians... even if they are muggles."

"And if Harry's aunt and uncle meet the minister," said Mr Weasley. "I shouldn't like to think what they'll do about Harry's guardianship."

"Let's just hope he doesn't come back until he's seventeen," said Ron. He sighed to himself. There was still such a long time to wait for Harry's return.

x X X x

A/N: This is probably rife with errors, but I kind of hate rereading this story more than any other. I find too many things I want to change.


	11. Truth and Manipulations

**Time and Again**

**Author's Note: **The Ron/Hermione bit's a bit longer in this one. That said, there is a lot of talk about Voldemort in it.

**Chapter 10 - Truth and Manipulations**

_January 1945  
_

Over the following weeks, Riddle proved to be persistent- yet another desirable trait for a Dark Lord to have. After all, their evil dictatorships always took a lot of planning and trying. They didn't just fall into place. Even now Grindelwald was persisting, but hadn't yet succeeded in taking control of continental Europe.

Riddle was suddenly everywhere Harry was. Harry had thought he'd seen a lot of Riddle before, but now he couldn't go two classes without seeing the Slytherin's smirking face. And he didn't just say hello to Harry. He'd always make sure to drag him off to some place more private and try to kiss him again. Harry should never have given him that Christmas present. It was just encouraging the fellow. Harry had had stalkers before, but none quite like Riddle.

Harry found himself torn every day. Some of the things Riddle did were terribly romantic, like getting the house elves to prepare his favourite dessert. But they were inevitably tinged with darkness, like everything else Riddle touched. He hadn't just asked the house elves to prepare it. He'd stood there and bullied them to make sure it was perfect, Harry had found the next time he was in the kitchen.

But Harry couldn't completely hold it against Riddle because he too was tinged with darkness. At the same time, he couldn't let himself fall for Riddle. That would be the most dangerous thing Harry could do, but when he was standing nose to nose with Riddle, breathing the same air, it never felt dangerous.

Riddle also stopped questioning Harry about the future. It made Harry suspect that the whole romancing plot was yet another way of tricking Harry into letting his guard down. After all, he'd only stopped being afraid of Harry's flirting after everyone knew Harry was gay. The stupidly romantic side of Harry argued that Riddle would only make a move if he thought he'd be accepted. That Riddle was afraid of rejection even as Harry teased him.

What Harry hated was that for all his rational side thought that Riddle must be trying to use him, somehow Harry was too afraid to ask him. Too afraid that Riddle's affections might be genuine. Too afraid that they might not be. Harry would rather live in ignorance than deal with that. Ignorance kept him away from Riddle.

And then there was Etienne. The French boy would look at Harry with pity in his eyes and generally treated Harry like someone on his death bed. But at least when Harry was with Etienne he didn't feel the horrible homesickness that engulfed him almost every waking moment. Riddle did nothing to help as all Harry could do was catalogue the differences between the seventeen-year-old and the resurrected Voldemort. Every night Harry wished that he could return home, and ever morning he woke in the wrong Gryffindor boys dorm.

Harry was certain that he was going to go mental pretty soon, if he wasn't already there. He'd tried to absorb himself in his school work, but every two seconds some other thought would come along and distract him. Harry had no idea who to go to for help. The school staff still looked at him with suspicion, waiting for him to do something unforgivable and reveal himself to be Grindelwald's servant. Harry didn't know why they'd never heard of innocent until proven guilty, and wondered how long before they'd look at him like any other student. He scrapped that thought. He wanted to be home before he ever found out.

It was the little things that Harry missed the most. How the house tables were slightly longer. How the posters on the Transfiguration room's walls were arranged. Quidditch practices. His wizard chess pieces. The look on Ron's face when he realised he'd just embarrassed himself. The glint in Hermione's eye before she ran off to the library to research something...

It was all too much. Harry didn't know when or where, but he knew he was going to crack. And he couldn't bring himself to care enough to stop it.

x x x

Harry cracked on a Thursday.

Riddle cornered him outside the greenhouses between Herbology and Defence.

"Hi," he said to Harry.

"Hi," said Harry, unable to say anything else.

Then Riddle had smiled and something about the way the sunlight reflected off Riddle's teeth made Harry feel light-headed or dizzy. He probably used some special sort of teeth potion. Whitens, brightens, and heightens unsuspecting wizards' arousals.

"Hi," said Harry again.

Riddle's hands made their way to Harry's waist, drawing him closer.

Harry found his feet put up no resistance, sliding along the dewy grass easily. His heart pounded so loudly in his ears that Harry had no idea what Riddle was saying. He just watched his thin lips form shapes, revealing and concealing those shiny white teeth and a dexterous, pink tongue.

Then one of Riddle's hands cupped Harry's face and he looked at Harry with what looked alarmingly like concern. Concern was a feeling you could only have if there was humanity left within you.

Harry held onto that and let Riddle lift him. He wrapped his legs around Riddle's waist and draped his arms around Riddle's shoulders. Then he let Riddle kiss him. He let Riddle's lips touch his own. Let Riddle's teeth clack against his. Let Riddle's tongue between his teeth. Let it tangle with his own. He let Riddle take control completely.

It didn't register with Harry that Riddle had taken a couple of steps forward until he felt his back press against the glass of a greenhouse and found himself smothered by Riddle. Harry was intoxicated by Riddle's scent, by the aftershave potion and his own musk. Vaguely Harry wondered why it had taken so long to get to this point. Why he hadn't let this happen earlier. He thought he'd had good reasons before, but surely he wouldn't have if he knew it would be this good.

Harry found himself whimpering and whining when Riddle's mouth detached from his, too far gone to form coherent words. Then the whine turned into a moan and a groan as Riddle licked and sucked on his neck, occasionally biting too. And in between he'd blow cool air so that Harry's neck burned hot and cold, repeated a whispered word.

"My... migh... mine..."

Harry caught the word finally and his eyes flew open (when had they closed?). He wasn't Riddle's. He didn't belong to anyone. He set his feet on the ground and pushed the other boy away. He could barely control his feet, but his flight reflex had him running away from Riddle as fast as he could.

x x x

"Stupid!" Harry yelled at himself. He'd gone straight to the Room of Requirement to try to sort everything out. He was hiding. It was cowardly, Slytherin behaviour, but Harry couldn't help it. He couldn't believe that he'd let Riddle kiss him like that. Touch him like that. That he'd let Riddle think he was giving himself to him. There must have been something in the greenhouses.

He wished twice as hard to go back to his own time where Tom Marvolo Riddle did not exist. Where he was only Voldemort. A Voldemort that Harry was sure he'd never be attracted to the same way that he was attracted to Riddle. Harry was just having trouble reconciling the two, that was all. It had been a problem when he was twelve, too, but he thought he'd gotten over it. Evidently not. Despite the undercurrent of evil in Tom Riddle, Harry had trouble imagining the same boy who picked him flowers was going to turn into the serpentine demon that was Lord Voldemort. The more he got to know Riddle the less he understood of him.

Harry sighed as he leant back on the giant beanbag the room had conjured. Harry wasn't even sure if they existed in this time but magic brought one here and Harry enjoyed his solitude. Actually, that was a lie. Harry hated being alone. He'd had enough of that when he was younger and had no choice. Here too he had no options. He couldn't be completely honest with anyone. All Harry had were his memories. Harry needed his friends, but was afraid of what would happen if he really wished for them.

Instead he wished himself back to his own time. It didn't work. The room remained the same. He slumped back down again.

The easier request for parchment and quill was met and Harry began inking another letter to his friends, informing them of his ridiculous feelings for Riddle. Of how he'd stupidly let Riddle kiss him not once, but twice. Harry poured every single one of his confused thoughts into it, and wished he could at least give his friends his note.

When Harry looked up, there was a wall of mailboxes just like at a muggle post office to his right. Well, thought Harry. It couldn't hurt to post it. He slid the letter into a convenient envelope and addressed it to Ron and Hermione then he took today's date and added fifty-two years to it. With any luck they'd get the letter today via the magic of the room. It was probably asking too much to let them send a reply. He reached into his robes and grabbed the other letter he'd written, addressing it similarly.

Harry made his way over to the mailboxes. There was one for Ronald Bilius Weasley beside Ginevra Molly Weasley. Hermione Jean Granger's was beneath Ron's. Figuring that either slot would do, Harry slid one into each. He wasn't sure exactly what he expected to happen, but the wall of mailboxes disappeared without a sound.

Although there was little chance of a reply, Harry felt better already.

x x x

Over the next week, Harry got really good at avoiding Riddle. It became his number one priority. He skipped half his classes (the ones Riddle had cornered him by before), didn't ever set foot near the greenhouses, and avoided meals in the Great Hall altogether. He'd eat in the kitchens with the house elves before each meal and hole up in his dorm room the rest of the time. He couldn't even use his wand because it reminded him too much of Riddle.

It wasn't long before Harry grew tired of hiding. Barely hanging on to his sanity, Harry really didn't need the accompanying boredom. Harry was beginning to wonder if he'd even be of any use once he got home. Maybe he should give up on the idea altogether. But Harry wasn't ready for that. He couldn't give up hope of leaving the past. While Harry lived he could hope to reclaim his old life. Even if it drove him insane.

One lunchtime, while Harry was eating with the elves, Dippet paid him a visit. Harry took one look at his impassive face and realised that he was in trouble.

"The teachers have reported that you're repeatedly skipping your classes," said Dippet. "You are aware, of course, that you are being allowed to remain at Hogwarts under the condition that you partake in classes."

Harry had forgotten that part of the agreement. "Are you kicking me out then?" Harry couldn't help but feel a little hopeful. Yes, living in a world with no past or identification could be a problem, but Harry would be able to start on working toward finding a means of time travel.

Evidently, Dippet noticed his eagerness. "You are being given a second chance to prove yourself as we don't think you're quite prepared to face the outside world if you are indeed from where you are from."

Harry rolled his eyes discreetly. "Yes sir."

Dippet clearly knew he was being sassed. "There are conditions to being allowed to remain here, Mr James," he said with less patience. "You will have to make up the work you missed in classes over the past week. And you will serve detentions making up the time you missed."

"Yes sir," said Harry. Being here had made him forget the usual consequences of skipping classes. He wasn't as invested in completing his education here as at home. If, Merlin forbid, he completed his NEWTs here and then went home, would they even accept it as a valid qualification? It would be from fifty years in the past in someone else's name.

But Dipper was probably right. Until the war was over, Harry was better off here at Hogwarts.

"And I would like an explanation for your absences," Dippet spoke pointedly. "Thus far we have been treating them as suspicious." The message was clear: tell Dippet or be considered a criminal.

Harry wondered what the best way to tell Dippet was without revealing his relationship to Voldemort in the future. With a jolt, Harry realised that the cause of his problem was a normal teenage one. "You know about my sexuality, sir," began Harry.

"Are the other students still giving you grief? The staff seem to think it has died off."

"Not particularly, sir. I've just been trying to avoid one student in particular. He doesn't seem to take no for an answer."

Dippet immediately grew concerned. Harry guessed he wasn't a completely hopeless teacher in his day. "We don't tolerate any sort of harassment here at Hogwarts. Any member of staff would have been willing to help you."

Harry fidgeted under his gaze.

"But of course you're a teenage boy. You wouldn't dare admit it. What's his name? I'll have a chat with him personally about respecting other students."

Harry wondered if he should lie or admit it was Riddle. Harry supposed that honesty was the best policy wherever possible. He had to tell too many lies. "Tom Riddle, sir."

"The Head Boy?" Dippet seemed more perplexed than outraged. "I never would have guessed." Then he laughed it off as though it couldn't possibly be a problem. "The boy has always been rather persistent, but I'm sure he doesn't mean anything by it." He looked at Harry. "And you _don't_ have feelings for him?" That seemed to trouble Dippet the most. He was confused as to why Harry wouldn't be attracted to Riddle, the charming and good looking Head Boy.

"None, sir," Harry managed to say, not entirely pleased with the way Dipper was treating this situation. If he was another student with the same concern he'd probably never tell anyone again. "He's old enough to be _my grandfather_," added Harry meaningfully, if only to give Dippet a reason.

"Oh," Dippet covered his mouth then gave Harry a once over. "I can see the resemblance. Poor Mr Riddle."

Harry mentally rolled his eyes again. Riddle had the headmaster wrapped around his little finger.

x x x

_February 1945_

Harry wasn't sure if Dippet ever did speak to Riddle, but Riddle didn't speak to Harry for a long time. Between classes, catching up on assignments, and scrubbing floors with Pringle (who seemed unnaturally appreciative of Harry's company and hard work), Harry didn't have time to think about what Riddle was thinking. The homework tired him out mentally and the scrubbing tired him out physically so that he fell straight into bed and slept almost dreamlessly every night. When his scheduled detentions were over, Harry had half a mind to promise that he'd help Pringle with the floors every day from then on. He didn't, though. He wasn't insane quite yet.

Etienne quickly caught on that Harry didn't want to be left alone so spent many of his spare moments regaling Harry with tales of his little sister and playing various wizard games.

"Do you ever get homesick?" Harry asked one day when they were playing in front of the common room fire. It was still winter and this spot was the most hotly contested one in the common room. They were lucky enough to have been the first ones back from dinner that evening.

"All the time," Etienne said, moving his only remaining knight. "Check."

Harry frowned and moved his king. "I've never felt this homesick before."

"Neither have I," said Etienne as he studied the board. "But then I remember that there's a good reason why I'm here and that it's not permanent."

"Are you going home straight after the war?"

Etienne moved a bishop. "Hopefully. Depending on when it ends and who wins." He shuddered. "At the moment it doesn't look like anyone will ever overpower Grindelwald. And if they do who's to say they won't be worse?"

Harry moved his queen. "Well, it might be over sooner than you think." He blinked at the board and grinned. "In more ways than one. Checkmate."

Etienne groaned as Harry's king dragged off his own. "Do you want to go again?"

Harry didn't, but there were still hours to go before he could contemplate sleep. Wordlessly he began setting up again.

x x x

"You've been avoiding me," Riddle said, cornering Harry outside the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. Etienne was still inside speaking to the professor and Harry was waiting for him.

"Who says that us not seeing one another has anything to do with you?" Harry avoided eye contact and warily watched Riddle's hands, ready to bat them away if they landed anywhere near his person. His eyes caught on the flash of the pendant Harry had given him around his neck.

"It's always about me," said Riddle, one of his hands clutching the pendant when he realised Harry's eyes were upon it.

Harry knew it was the truth even as he denied it. "Self-centred much?"

"One day the world will revolved around me. You've said as much."

Harry scowled, upset with himself. Riddle was always ferreting out more information than Harry thought he'd given. "I could always be lying."

"No," said Riddle. "I've figured out the signs of your lies."

"Not everyone's a pathological liar like you are."

"I'll take that as a compliment," said Riddle. He changed the subject, stepping closer to Harry. "Why don't you want to be near me?"

Harry quickly sidestepped him. "I thought the answer to that was pretty obvious."

"Humour me," Riddle said with a grin and matched Harry's step with one of his own. "Enlighten me." Another step closer.

"How about because I know what you become?" Harry stepped away. "I'm not evil, Riddle. I don't get off on the suffering of other people, no matter what sort of blood they have."

Riddle smirked an evil smirk. "You could. Imagine me and you ruling the world side by side. You'd be my queen, Evan."

Harry shuddered at the thought of belonging to Riddle in any shape or form. He was disgusted with himself for not finding the very idea disgusting. "That's disgusting," he said anyway.

"Why would you think that?" Riddle asked. "You're powerful. I can smell it. We're compatible, you and I. I knew it from the moment you landed in my cauldron. I knew we were made for each other."

Harry was full of indecision concerning what to say next. On one hand it was a lie. On the other, he'd already implied as much to Dippet. "We're related." When had he ever cared about lying to Tom Riddle?

Riddle's smirk faltered. He hadn't been expecting that but he recovered soon enough. "Another lie."

"It's why I've been so focused on not being born." Harry tried his hardest to make the lie believable.

"No," Riddle shook his head. "This has to be a lie. You wouldn't tell me anything and now you're volunteering information? You wouldn't."

"Well excuse me for being grossed out that my grandfather is into me."

"I've never had a family before," said Riddle. "But I'm certain I wouldn't feel this way about a son."

Harry shuddered. "Can we stop talking about that?"

"No," Riddle said firmly. "I don't believe you."

"Surely you've noticed we look similar?"

"Because we both have black hair? Blacks and Potters are also known for that particular trait."

Harry almost flinched at the mention of his family, but caught himself in time. It wouldn't do to have Riddle realise which family tree he belonged to. "You've noticed how connected to me you feel."

"And it's not that kind of connection," said Riddle.

Harry had to get Riddle to believe him so he let one more secret out of the bag. "Then why can I speak Parseltongue?" he hissed in the snake language.

"That was English," Riddle hissed in response.

"Was it?" Harry hissed smugly.

"I don't know how you learnt Parseltongue, but I know you can't be my son or grandson or anything else. It's impossible. I had an accident in third year. Nurse Fairweather informed me that I would not be able to have children."

Why was Harry surprised to hear that? He should have guessed with the way everything else was going. Did Dippet know? Was he laughing behind Harry's back this entire time? "A lot can happen in a few years," said Harry. He felt strangely guilty for lying to Riddle like this. It would give him hope when Harry knew he'd never have children. And it mean that he'd never have a family, something Harry knew Riddle secretly wanted and would never have.

Harry was struck with the urge to be a family to Riddle. To love and comfort him in the way only family could... well, now he was his grandson, wasn't he?

Harry hugged Riddle, while making sure to have as little contact with him as possible. "That's why I care about what you become, grandpa." The words almost rolled off his tongue too easily. Harry was starting to realise that if Riddle would be a good person sometimes, he could forgive him for the evil the rest of the time. It wasn't fair.

"Don't say that!" Riddle tore away from Harry. "I know you're lying. I just need to get you to admit it."

Harry scoffed. "Good luck with that."

Etienne exited the classroom and noted the other two boys' warring stances. "Sorry it took so long," he apologised to Harry. "Come on, let's see if there's anything left of dinner." He all but dragged Harry away from Riddle.

"Thanks," Harry said once they were out of earshot.

"You should have gone ahead without me," said Etienne, disapproving.

"I thought I'd be better off waiting for someone to walk with."

Etienne looked at him as though he was an idiot. "_Everyone_ was headed to dinner."

Harry _was_ an idiot. His subconscious probably _wanted_ to run into Riddle. Riddle scared him, but sometimes he scared himself even more.

x x x

The next few days were excruciating for Harry. Riddle had given up on trying to speak to him alone and would start talking about things he shouldn't know anything about in front of Etienne, Mihail and Abe. Every time Harry saw Riddle approaching he'd head him off, which made it hard for the other boys to believe that he didn't like and want to be alone with Riddle. They couldn't understand that there were things that Riddle knew that Harry couldn't tell them.

"I'm going to tell them," Riddle said, finally resorting to blackmail.

Harry sighed. He'd known it would come to this sooner or later. He'd hoped it wouldn't, but Riddle would never consider himself above blackmail. "You can't tell them," he protested half-heartedly.

"You can't always be around them," he said. "One day you'll be in the bathroom, or up in your dorm or five minutes late to dinner-"

"You just don't care, do you? You don't care about the consequences of telling anyone anything. You don't care about what I think or how I feel at all!" Currently, Harry was feeling a little hysterical.

"I don't care for liars."

"But you are one yourself," said Harry.

"I never said I cared much for myself."

There was a look on Riddle's face that tore at Harry's heartstrings. Once again his pesky moral fibre was rearing its ugly head. "You aren't directly related to me," he admitted, unable to maintain eye contact while he said it.

Riddle smiled in triumph. It wasn't a smirk, as though he'd proved he was better than Harry, but a real, honest, genuine smile that meant he was glad that Harry wasn't his grandson. The sort of smile that made Harry want to kiss Riddle forever.

Harry sighed again. He could never do that. He couldn't let himself succumb to Riddle again. Not even for a second. He hugged himself and walked away. Riddle didn't follow, but watched him go.

x X X x

_January 1997_

One day, Ron and Hermione made their way to the Room of Requirement intent on practising before their next DA meeting. But when the door opened for them, it was obvious that that wasn't really what was on their minds when they'd paced in front of the door. The room had transformed into a sitting room, with comfortable chairs and a coffee table, and a roaring fire.

They looked at each other, wondering whether or not to admit that they were more in need of comfort from one another than anything else. They sat on the couch together, Hermione curled tightly under Ron's arm.

"Some days," said Ron. "I miss him so much more than others."

An owl appeared out of nowhere and dropped a letter on the coffee table right in front of Ron. Another fell in front of Hermione. They both stared.

"What were you thinking of?" asked Hermione, eyeing the two envelopes cautiously.

"I just wanted to hear from Harry," said Ron.

"That's what I was thinking about, too."

As one, they knelt on the ground to get a closer look without touching.

"Ron and Hermione," Hermione read aloud.

"This makes about as much sense as the Christmas presents," said Ron, reaching for the one that had landed in front of him. Hermione smacked his hand away with her wand.

"Just because those were from him, doesn't mean these are." She cast a few revealing spells and found nothing. As an afterthought she checked for bubotuber pus. Nothing again. "Okay," she said. "You can open them now."

"Me?" said Ron.

"You were eager to open them a minute ago."

Ron sighed. He'd have to be a Gryffindor about this. He trusted that the Room wouldn't kill them and opened the first letter. He checked the date and saw the chicken scratch that was Harry's signature at the bottom.

Hermione read it over Ron's shoulder. Ron didn't like what he was reading, but there was too much truth in it to not have been written by someone with Harry's memories if not Harry himself.

"He's definitely gay," said Ron, starting with the easiest thing on his mind.

"We already knew that," said Hermione.

"Well he's told us now," said Ron.

"Voldemort has his wand," said Hermione. "Who knows what could happen to him? Anyone could curse him and he wouldn't have a chance of defending himself!"

"Hermione," said Ron carefully. "He hasn't mentioned anyone but Voldemort. You don't think they could be involved, do you?"

Hermione's look was not comforting to Ron. "Maybe he just hasn't met his future boyfriend yet. He would have told us if he was involved with someone else. You read the letter. He was feeling guilty about not telling us he was gay. He'd be more honest."

"I really hope he's not involved with Voldemort," said Ron. "What does that mean for the war? That it's just some lover's spat?"

Hermione frowned. "Whatever Harry has going on with Tom Riddle it's got nothing to do with the war." She shook her head at Ron. "Let's not jump to conclusions. We've got another letter to open."

Ron's fingers snatched it up quickly, having momentarily forgotten it. Once he'd finished reading it, he dropped his eyes, dismayed. "He's kissed him. They're not together yet but you can see it's only a matter of time."

Hermione took the letter from him, reading it more closely. "He's conflicted," said Hermione. "He had a momentary lapse in judgement. He won't do it again."

Ron shook his head. "He _thinks_ he won't do it again. I want to know. Let's make Dumbledore tell us."

"Ron," said Hermione. "He's the headmaster. We can't make him do anything."

"We'll just ask him, then," he said. "What's the harm in that?"

"Do you really want to know?" asked Hermione. "What if you're right?"

"Then," said Ron. "I'd rather have some time to think about it before I see Harry again."

"He doesn't want us to change our opinion of him. If it's true we have to trust that Harry's got some insight that we don't."

"Or it's not true," said Ron. "Maybe he's only pretending. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer and all that."

"Maybe," said Hermione. But she looked too unsure to Ron. "We should get to practising," she said, changing the subject.

But when nothing in the Room changed, Ron looked at her smugly.

"Fine!" she said. "We'll go and see Dumbledore... if he's even here..."

x x x

After a moment of waiting at Dumbledore's office, the gargoyle moved aside and allowed Ron and Hermione entrance. Ron practically ran full tilt up the stairs. Hermione followed more sedately.

Everything in the room looked exactly as it had the last time they'd been in Professor Dumbledore's office. Exactly the same, except for Dumbledore himself who looked rather worse for wear. Hermione frowned, rather worried about the fate of the world if Dumbledore happened to fall ill.

"Professor!" Ron exclaimed as he burst in.

The shout seemed to startle Dumbledore from his thoughts. "Yes, my boy?"

"We've just received letters," he said. "From Harry."

Hermione sat down. Ron placed the letters on Dumbledore's desk before following suit.

"I see," said Dumbledore, reading over the missives. "These do appear to be genuine," he said once he'd waved his wand over them.

"So it's true then?" said Ron. "When Slughorn mentioned Harry's boyfriend he meant Tom Riddle."

"Yes," said Dumbledore. "That is who _Professor_ Slughorn was referring to."

Ron and Hermione looked at one another, ignoring the veiled reprimand. Harry Potter and Voldemort? Even though they'd had suspicions it was nothing compared with having them confirmed.

"I trust Harry," Hermione said finally. "If he's with Tom Riddle I'm sure he has a reason for it."

"Could You-Know-Who just be stringing him along?" asked Ron. "Or maybe Harry's the one using him... for protection or something."

"There is always a possibility," said Dumbledore. "Although I didn't spend much time with the pair of them, I did think their relationship was based on mutual affection. I did have my suspicions about Tom at the time and think I would have noticed if he was coercing Harry into that relationship. They had their share of arguments but all couples fight," he said, looking at Ron and Hermione pointedly.

"Then maybe," said Hermione. "There's still hope for Voldemort."

"I'm sorry to say, Miss Granger, that it is highly unlikely," said Dumbledore. "His soul has been irreparably damaged and without such it is impossible to love. Perhaps he was closer to whole when he was with Harry, but now..." Dumbledore looked up sadly. "It's too late."

Hermione mulled that over, wondering what Dumbledore wasn't telling them. "So when Harry comes back Voldemort's still going to be the same?"

"I'm afraid so," said the headmaster.

Ron was troubled by all of this talk about Voldemort and Harry and the way their relationship would affect the world. He wanted to change the subject but didn't know where to begin.

"Perhaps," said Dumbledore, sensing Ron's discomfort. "If I showed you what a younger Tom Riddle was like, you might understand him better."

"Is it what you would have shown Harry?" asked Hermione, eager on her quest for more knowledge. "Harry told us about Tom Riddle's parents."

"Yes," said Dumbledore. "And now I'd like to show you my memory of our first meeting." He slid his pensieve onto the desk.

Ron eyed it a little cautiously. He'd never used a pensieve before. "We just lean over and stick our heads in it?"

"Precisely," said Dumbledore. "After you." He gestured toward the stone basin.

Hermione took Ron's hand and bent over the pensieve. Ron found himself being drawn into Dumbledore's memory. The orphanage Dumbledore led them to was neat, though old and shabby. It would have reminded Ron of home if it wasn't so, well, muggle.

They listened to the auburn-haired Dumbledore speaking with Mrs Cole. Hermione found it sad that no one had ever come to claim Tom Riddle. From what Harry had told her, Tom Riddle's father, muggle grandparents, wizarding grandfather and uncle would all still have been alive, could have picked him up and never did.

But Hermione did not like Dumbledore's method of gathering information. She supposed it was a good thing that Dumbledore took such an interest in his students, but couldn't he have stuck to those things Mrs Cole was willing to share? Why was Dumbledore already suspicious of Tom Riddle, an eleven-year-old orphan? Those thoughts were soon swept away by her disgust as Mrs Cole recounted the story of the rabbit and Hermione's imagination ran away with her as she imagined what else young Tom Riddle had done.

Ron and Hermione had never before seen Tom Riddle, and were surprised to see him so normal looking. Despite Ginny and Harry's recollections, they'd both vaguely thought that they would have been able to detect something off about him. That wasn't the case at all. That is, until he opened his mouth. Instead, Tom Riddle was a scrawny, tall, black-haired orphan who rather reminded both of them of a first year Ron and Harry rolled up together, if a little less naive. It was Harry's greatest strength that he managed to hold on to his innocence despite the abuse he suffered from his aunt and uncle, and Voldemort himself.

Ron actually felt sorry for Riddle. The kid seemed so sure that Dumbledore want to take him away to a facility for the deranged. Ron felt less sorry for him when he mentioned doing bad things to people who annoyed him. Ron understood that feeling, after all he'd been picked on by five older brothers and his younger sister all his life. But when he acted upon it, he hardly managed anything more sinister than a dungbomb in the bedroom. That certainly wasn't terrible enough to traumatise anyone.

They watched as Dumbledore tried to teach Tom a lesson about stealing. Hermione suspected he really only learnt how to hide better, and not to trust Dumbledore. It was interesting seeing how someone else reacted to the information Hermione had been given at that same age. Hermione had needed more than a parlour trick performed by Professor McGonagall to prove that magic existed. But once Professor McGonagall had shown her some books she'd been more excited than anything by the world that had just been opened up to her. Tom Riddle seemed to need rather less convincing. Hermione supposed he wasn't blinded by his own intellect.

Then it was all over and they stumbled out of the pensieve together.

"It's easier now," said Ron once he'd sat down. "To believe that Harry sees a person in Tom Riddle. But I can't help thinking Harry's only fooling himself. He can't really be remembering that Tom Riddle is You-Know-Who every time he's with him." Ron was having trouble with the idea that they were the same person and all he'd seen of Tom Riddle was a memory. It must be exponentially hard for Harry when talking to the flesh and blood Riddle.

"Remember," said Dumbledore. "Harry hasn't seen this memory. Anything he knows he's learnt here, or from Tom himself."

"It's naive to think that Harry wouldn't question everything Riddle tells him," said Hermione. "There must be more than just that eleven-year-old with a mean streak."

"He's not just mean," pointed out Ron. "He's very independent... lonely really." Ron had never had to be independent in his life, though he'd often tried to be. He sympathised with that.

"And he likes to collect things and keep secrets, too," said Hermione. "I was summarising."

"Sorry," said Ron, not sorry at all.

"I have rather a lot more I might show you," said Dumbledore. "But it is getting rather late. You'd best be off to bed."

As Ron and Hermione walked back to Gryffindor Tower, they discussed what they'd learned about Riddle, and how that could affect Harry.

"He's got weaknesses," said Hermione. "That's important if Harry wants to defeat him."

"Yeah," said Ron, but as usual he was still thinking about Harry's relationship with him. "Even if Riddle's just trying to manipulate him Harry's falling for him genuinely. So for his sake, I hope Riddle is more human... that he does really like Harry."

"So do I," said Hermione.

"But if Harry really does still like Riddle when he gets back here... I think we might have to get used to having You-Know-Who around. Harry can't kill someone he loves."

"Harry can't kill anyone," said Hermione. "That's not what this is about. But Dumbledore was involved with Grindelwald, you know. That didn't stop him. It's not going to stop Harry."

Ron shivered, suddenly cold in the draughty hallway. He was really glad he wasn't Harry.

x x x

They were back in Dumbledore's office peering into his pensieve again before long. They watched and read between the lines as Morfin Gaunt met Tom Riddle Jr for the first time.

"Would Harry know this?" asked Hermione.

"I doubt Riddle told him," said Ron.

"Sorry," said Hermione and corrected herself. "I meant has the Tom Riddle Harry's just met already killed his father and grandparents?"

"Yes," said Dumbledore. "Tom would have begun his seventh year at Hogwarts when Harry arrived in the past."

"So he's already a murderer," said Ron. "And Harry doesn't know."

"He does," said Hermione. "Myrtle, remember?"

But to Ron that murder had always seemed almost accidental. It wasn't a stretch that Harry could be led to think the same. Riddle wouldn't want to risk being sent to Azkaban over it, even if he thought he could escape. Plus he blamed it rather clumsily on Hagrid. This second murder was clearly planned and thought out. The cover up wasn't at all clumsily handled. It was executed quite strategically.

Far from convincing Ron and Hermione that Voldemort should be murdered at their earliest convenience, Dumbledore's memories reminded them that Voldemort was human. He had hopes and dreams and emotions, even if they were forever tinged with darkness. There was no death penalty in muggle Britain so why shouldn't it be the same in their magical counterpart? So far Dumbledore had yet to show them why it was that Voldemort couldn't be redeemed. Instead it taught them to hope. For Harry's sake, mostly, but for their own as well.

"Now," said Dumbledore. "Shortly thereafter, Tom returned to Hogwarts. This is Professor Slughorn's memory of one occasion."

Now there, thought Hermione once they'd left the pensieve, was a Tom Riddle you'd be attracted to. The one who'd met Morfin Gaunt was serious, cold and calculating. This was the charming Tom Riddle. The one who could get you to confess to anything. That was the one Harry would fall for, even if he occasionally saw the other side.

Then Dumbledore asked Ron and Hermione to see if they could find out what Slughorn had tried to hide in his memory.

"I won't do it," said Hermione. "Slughorn has a right to his secrets. I'm not going to manipulate him into giving up information that is unimportant anyway."

Ron was surprised by the strength of her conviction. He knew Hermione was growing to like Professor Slughorn, growing entranced by all the wonders of the world outside Hogwarts that he could show her, and that she often didn't agree with the way that Dumbledore seemed to manipulate everyone. But she was so firm on this point. There would be no dissuading her.

It made Ron love her more to see her like that. This was a path he could agree on. He wasn't so sure about House Elves, but regardless of whether or not he liked Slughorn, he was a professor and a person. He didn't deserve to be tricked into giving up his memories. Made to remember what he clearly considered to be one of his greatest mistakes. He certainly wouldn't be in the same position to ever make it again.

Had Dumbledore only hired Slughorn so that he could find the truth behind the false memory? He was supposed to be their Headmaster, not the one waging a war on Voldemort. That was supposed to be the Ministry's problem. Dumbledore was supposed to be looking out for his students' best interests, and finding appropriate teachers to educate them was part of that. If Dumbledore didn't want that memory would he still have hired back Slughorn? Would he still have made Snape their Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher and essentially ensured that he would not return to Hogwarts next year?

"What makes you think the memory is unimportant, Miss Granger?"

"You obviously already know what a horcrux is, and that's all Slughorn told him."

"We cannot know that for certain."

"No, but it's the important part," said Hermione. "Yes it would be nice to know exactly what was said and maybe how many Voldemort made, but Slughorn doesn't know that. What is a horcrux, anyway?"

Dumbledore didn't seem particularly willing to divulge that piece of information now that she hadn't just gone along with whatever he was saying.

Ron spoke up, more than willing to side with his girlfriend even against Dumbledore. "Why did you want us to irritate Professor Slughorn? Surely you don't think we'd succeed where you failed."

"You're right, my boy. I had hoped that Harry would have greater success."

Hermione frowned. It sounded like Dumbledore just wanted to use Harry, and the pair of them in his stead. He wanted to manipulate Harry like a puppet, but worse because Harry wouldn't know his strings were being pulled. "Why don't you tell us about horcruxes, Professor? Maybe if it really is that important we'll give it a shot."

Ron figured that that was unlikely. But Dumbledore seemed to hope they'd agree, and reluctantly explained the concept.

"That's it, then," said Hermione. "You already know that Voldemort made horcruxes- plural."

"There's no recorded instance of any witch or wizard ever splitting their soul into more than two pieces."

"But of course it's possible," said Hermione. "After all, we've already destroyed two."

Dumbledore's eyes glittered. "Astute as ever, Miss Granger." He looked at her with a mixture of pride and sadness.

"I don't get it," said Ron. "When did we destroy two horcruxes?"

"Morfin Gaunt's ring," said Hermione. "Dumbledore had it and now he doesn't."

"And the other?" said Ron.

"Riddle's diary," said Hermione. "What else could be so lifelike?"

Ron shuddered at the thought that his sister had come so close to Voldemort. "So what now?"

"I've told you all that I can," said Dumbledore. "Now we may only hope to find and destroy the remaining horcruxes."

Hermione nodded. "Five more, I think," she said. "He can't have made more than that."

"Why five?" asked Ron.

"If you'd taken Arithmancy you'd know that seven's the most magically powerful number," she said. "Voldemort would have known that."

"It seems likely," said Dumbledore. "But counting his original soul you would only need to find six horcruxes in total."

"Yes," said Hermione, her eyes flashing.

Ron could tell Hermione was eager to get started on solving this next puzzle. He yawned. "I should be getting to bed. Quidditch practice tomorrow."

"You're right," said Hermione. "We should go."

They said their farewells to Dumbledore, then headed toward the Tower.

"I don't think we can trust him anymore," said Ron.

"Not entirely," agreed Hermione. "But we shouldn't let him know that we don't."

Ron nodded. "I can't believe it's come to this... that we're considering siding with You-Know-Who."

"I wouldn't call it siding, exactly," said Hermione. "We're not about to try joining the Death Eaters. We don't want to do any of that."

"True," said Ron. "I guess it's more like we're with the Ministry."

"We would be," Hermione agreed. "If they seemed more competent. It wouldn't be up to Dumbledore to run that side of the war and we'd have nothing to do with it."

The Ministry, thought Ron, had a lot to answer for. "It makes you realise why Dumbledore never agreed to be Minister for Magic," he said.

"Oh?" said Hermione.

"Well he'd have to be a bureaucrat then, wouldn't he? All paperwork and laws. Out here, in Hogwarts, there's no one to watch him."

Hermione shuddered. She hated the idea of not trusting the man who had all the power in this school. It was like last year, with Umbridge. That was worse.

Or was it? At least Umbridge's machinations were all out in the open. Dumbledore was hiding behind a veil of benevolence.

"There is one thing I want to know about Dumbledore," said Hermione.

"What's that?" asked Ron.

"Why it took him so long to defeat Grindelwald."

"You're right," said Ron. "If he was as great as everyone said he was, why couldn't he have done it sooner."

"I think when we know that," said Hermione. "We'll have the key to all of this."

x x x

_February 1997_

The rest of the month passed without further contact with Dumbledore. It was terribly easy for Ron and Hermione to avoid him when he wasn't even at the school half the time. They were working together trying to figure out what the rest of the horcruxes were, and how to destroy them. It was difficult, because there were no mentions of horcruxes in the Hogwarts library. They were halfway to thinking that perhaps they should leave the horcrux hunting to Dumbledore and instead focus on their moral dilemma: should they even be thinking about destroying Voldemort in the first place? At least now they understood why his soul was irreparably damaged.

It was easier to lose themselves in their Hogwarts-sanctioned activities. They had homework by the truckload, and were learning how to apparate. Ron had Quidditch practices. They both had to keep learning and teaching the DA. The DA had made surprising progress. Malfoy had actually taken the time to teach them a spell.

It was _Serpensortia_, the snake-conjuring spell he'd tried to use against Harry in their second year. Here it had the desired effect as no one in the room had Harry's gift of Parseltongue. It was a bit chaotic, but Malfoy was surprisingly good at keeping control of everyone's conjured snakes, dispelling them before anyone was bitten. Hermione would go so far as to say that Malfoy enjoyed being part of the group. He often lingered behind after their lessons looking absolutely determined. Hermione guessed he practised for the next class to make sure he remained ahead.

Snape had started to take a more active role in the DA, too. He began insisting that they practise their non-verbal spells. Hermione didn't mind the learning, liking that Snape finally seemed to be behaving like a teacher, not someone who expected you to know everything. And he taught the top defence group (and Ron and Hermione) the art of spell creation, making everyone in the lower groups more determined to succeed, and having other students clamour to join.

Snape's sudden change of heart, however, did surprise Hermione. She wondered if Dumbledore had spoken to him but Snape didn't seem reluctant. That was the biggest difference in his attitude. He seemed to want to teach for once in his life. And because he wanted to teach, the students wanted to learn. This didn't however change his attitude in their regular defence classes. If anything he seemed to expect even more unreasonable things from them in class.

With the time Ron and Hermione's relationship had grown stronger. Hermione didn't know what she'd do without Ron to lighten the atmosphere sometimes. He kept her grounded whenever she felt that there were too many things on her plate. He reminded her that he shared the same goals. They spoke of the future so often they were all but engaged to one another.

The pair of them also spent more time with Neville. He'd taken on some of their DA teaching burden reluctantly, but seemed to have improved in all areas because of it. He felt like he had a place in their circle. The three of them often spent time with Ginny and Luna, too. Their shared experiences set them apart from the rest of the students. The ones who didn't seem to recognise that there was a war outside of Hogwarts' walls.

Without really consulting one another about it, Hermione and Ron had come to conclusion to tell Neville, Ginny and Luna where Harry had gone and about what Dumbledore was expecting them to do. This drew the five of them closer together, and had the unexpected effect of breaking apart Ginny and Dean. He hadn't been able to understand that there were things she couldn't tell him that she could share with Neville and Luna. Dean found himself in the unexpected position of being jealous of Neville Longbottom and Loony Lovegood. And Ron found himself captaining an Quidditch team with Chasers who were now dead set on proving themselves better than each other.

Ron couldn't help thinking the drama was saving itself for later on in the year. This was only the calm before the storm

x X X x

A/N: So let me know if that utterly bored you, and the next chapter should be up... I dunno in a month or so? Let's not get our hopes up.


	12. Change

**Time and Again**

**Author's Note: **It is not a month since the last chapter because it's only half of what I intended to put into it at first. And I hope, that since everyone generally seems to think this is a 'realistic' story (within the parameters of Harry Potter and time travel, of course), that this chapter is just as realistic. I think it gets harder as I go along because I know where I want to go but not how to get there.

**Chapter 11 - Change**

_March 1945  
_

Harry was terrified and confused about his feelings for Riddle. The Slytherin hadn't come after him and Harry had thought that would be the only conclusion to his confession. He hated that he cared. That he'd noticed. That he wanted Riddle to come after him. That he'd given in to the wanting. If only for a second he wanted Tom Riddle.

So when Harry saw Riddle leaving lunch early one day he went after him. The plan was ill thought out because once he reached the elder teen he didn't know what to say. Instead he followed him for a moment in silence.

"Where are you going?" Harry asked finally, feeling like a little tag-along.

Riddle turned and smiled at Harry as though the sight of him was enough to make him happy. "I have to see Professor Slughorn."

"Oh," said Harry, thinking on the brief amount of time he'd spent with the Slughorn in his time. "Slug club meeting?"

"Not today." Riddle laughed. His teeth glittered. Harry knew he should be cautious, in the way one was when approaching a crocodile. _Don't be taken in by his welcome grin..._ Harry couldn't help himself.

"Sucking up then?" said Harry, not sure why he felt breathless.

"Sucking up?" Riddle raised one elegant eyebrow.

"You know, pandering. Getting on Slughorn's good side." Slughorn here treated Harry differently from the older Slughorn. Here Harry was just another student, if a little strange because he first made his appearance in one of the other students' cauldrons. After his novelty in the first month wore off Harry was no different from any other student. That was one good thing about being here. His fame didn't precede him wherever he went.

"I guess so then," said Riddle, still smiling.

"Of course," said Harry with a scoff. "Trying to expand your evil empire."

"Why do you think that?" asked Riddle.

"Because no matter how charming, handsome and romantic you are you're still an evil Dark Lord in training." Once again Harry was exasperated with himself.

"You think I'm charming, handsome and romantic?" asked Riddle with a debonair grin.

Harry blushed. "Fat lot of good it does me," he muttered.

"What do you think of my kissing ability?" Riddle asked, trying to egg Harry on.

Harry reddened further. "Stop fishing for compliments."

"Oh I have no need of that. Druella Rosier is always willing to say lovely things to me," Riddle grinned. Then added, "And she doesn't think I'm evil."

Harry found himself remarkably jealous. It wasn't rational. When had he turned into this creature who was only ruled by his ridiculous emotions? He didn't want to be Druella Rosier. He didn't want to be one of Riddle's groupies.

If he was honest with himself, he wanted something more. He wanted to be able to sway Riddle from a path he already knew was inevitable. But Harry couldn't do that. Fate had already played its hands in those events. If Harry wanted to pursue a relationship with Riddle (a path that looked more and more likely every day), he was going to have to learn to accept Riddle for who he was. The problem was that Harry was finding this increasingly easy to accomplish. How could Harry think that he was holding on to his own morals when he was condoning everything Riddle did by wanting to be with him? What Voldemort did was unforgivable. What Riddle would do... what he'd already done was the same.

Harry dealt with that as he did every ethical question he'd stumbled across over the years. He ignored it.

"Are you trying to make me jealous?" he teased Riddle.

"Is it working?" Riddle smiled that smile that set Harry's heart thumping faster.

Harry cursed himself for being such an idiot. "No," he lied.

"I did say you were an awful liar," Riddle said. He drew a watch from his pocket. "I'm late," he said, reminding Harry of the White Rabbit from Alice in Wonderland. But what he did next was unlike anything the rabbit had ever done. He leaned forward and kissed Harry chastely on the lips. "Bye Evan." Then with a swirl of his robes he was gone.

As Harry watched him go, he wished his lips would stop tingling.

x x x

As with everything that had happened since Harry's arrival in the past, how he'd come to find his life revolving more and more around Riddle with each passing day was a mystery. Harry had thought he dwelt on Voldemort and Riddle before. Now it was beyond that. It was like he didn't have a single non-Riddle related thought in his head. Even Etienne, it seemed, had given Harry up as a lost cause.

Harry found that he'd written fewer letters to Ron and Hermione, even knowing that they would get them if he posted them in the Room of Requirement. Something had to be done about the situation. He had to change something if he ever wanted to escape this morass of questions that dogged him. He had to make a decision. He had to make a move.

Or not resist one, as the case may be. Harry didn't protest when Riddle kissed him hello the next time he saw him. If he didn't think too much, kissing Riddle was rather uplifting. It filled Harry with warm gooey feelings, and fierier ones too.

"Hi," said Harry, slightly breathless.

Riddle looked amused as always, as though it was funny that Harry was falling for him. Harry couldn't let himself be annoyed. He was such a sap. This thing with Riddle was like a summer romance, Harry reasoned. They'd fall fast and hard and when Harry went back to his own time, they'd each have their memories. What would it hurt? Why should Harry deny himself a little happiness? He certainly hadn't had an excess of it in his life. Neither had Riddle, so maybe they both deserved it. Harry should be thinking of this time here as like a holiday, not a prison sentence for a crime he hadn't committed.

"What have you been up to?" Riddle asked, sitting down beside Harry. They were sitting in the courtyard, looking across the small lawn.

"Nothing," said Harry, shutting his Transfiguration textbook. Dumbledore had been more distracted lately and correspondingly his lessons turned into theory. "Transfiguration homework."

Riddle laughed. Harry looked on a little bemused. Riddle seemed to find everything amusing. Probably because he thought he was above it all. But Harry thought he was rather too good-humoured for a Dark Lord to be. Sometimes Harry wondered if he really believed that Riddle would become Voldemort. He knew it. But it was the difference between theory and practical. Between reading about some far off land and actually visiting it. You think you know what you're getting yourself in for, then the culture shock hits you.

"Dumbledore's _mad_, isn't he?" said Riddle, still grinning.

Harry frowned. "Dumbledore's the greatest wizard of our times."

Riddle chucked again, then stopped when he realised who he was speaking to. "What do you know?"

Harry shut his mouth immediately.

"Evan?" Riddle leaned in closer, putting his head right in front of Harry's face.

"That's not my name, you know," he said in an attempt to distract Riddle.

"Well I can't very well call you Future-Boy." Riddle gave him a piercing look. "Are you going to tell me your real name? It can't be that important."

Harry almost believed him. He almost let it out. It would be so good to hear someone, anyone, just call him Harry. Or even Potter. It was on the tip of his tongue, just about to spill. Then Harry remembered that Riddle was Voldemort. He leaned away from Riddle. "Of course it's important. Things might not happen if you know." Like trying to kill him, though that could be a good thing. "Or worse, things will still happen." It would kill Harry if he and Riddle had this thing and then he got back to the future to find it exactly the same, his parents still dead. If Voldemort knew that Harry was Evan and tried to kill him anyway... Harry shuddered.

Riddle's lips curled in contemplation. "I do something to you personally, don't I?"

Harry wanted to say something, but he bit his lip to keep quiet.

"I could change it," he whispered, leaning closer to Harry and befuddling him with his scent, hypnotising him like a serpent. "If you told me I wouldn't."

Harry shivered. There was Riddle's charm. He wouldn't fall prey to it. He couldn't let himself. "It's already happened," said Harry. "If I tell you it will only be worse because you'll do it anyway, even though you know."

Riddle shut his eyes and drew back. "Evan it is, then. What do you know about Dumbledore?"

Harry wanted to scream in frustration. He was right back on the subject like a pendulum.

Harry stood. "I'm getting cold," he said, standing up to walk inside.

"I'll find out eventually," said Riddle.

Harry paused and turned back. "Yes," he agreed. "When everyone else does." What year was it again? "In fact, it won't be long." Harry walked away.

x x x

Harry found himself spending the evenings between last class and dinner with Riddle in the courtyard. It wasn't a conscious decision on his part. He was just drawn to Riddle. Harry wasn't sure why he kept returning because every time they met it ended with Harry storming away because Riddle reminded him too much of Voldemort. He could never stay away and if he was honest with himself, he didn't want to.

It never failed to amuse Riddle that Harry would come back every time, having already forgiven him. And when he did he was always open to Riddle's kiss. A kiss that meant more every time.

"You never kiss me back," Riddle said, at the beginning of another evening meeting.

Harry blinked. "Oh." He'd never really thought about it. His entire kissing experience before Riddle could be summed up in one name: Cho Chang. Now that Riddle said it, it was obvious to Harry. Kisses were mutual things. You had to give as much as you got... but maybe subconsciously Harry hadn't wanted to think of it as mutual.

"You don't want this, do you?" Riddle suddenly seemed just like any other insecure teenage boy. But Harry couldn't shake the notion that Riddle might just be manipulating him. Riddle's motives, like Voldemort's, were often as clear as mud.

"I'm not sure," admitted Harry. "People don't usually go into relationships _knowing_ that the other person is going to turn into someone they don't like."

"But relationships do often end in hate and distrust. You're thinking about it too much. It doesn't have to be complicated at this moment." It all made so much sense to Harry. Sense that had been missing from his mind recently.

And, because he'd never done it before, Harry leaned over and kissed Tom Riddle. He was surprised how much of a difference it made to the kiss. He really felt like he was getting somewhere with Riddle.

Suddenly the world was upside down and Harry's back was pressed against the cold stone wall he'd been sitting on before. Then Riddle's thigh was between his and Harry was clinging to Riddle's back with his hands because if he let go he might fall farther and land harder, never mind that his back was already adhering to the stone. There was no denying that Tom Riddle was a good kisser.

In a corner of his mind Harry wondered who else knew this. Which of Riddle's groupies had he deigned to allow this close to him?

He shook those thoughts away. He was the one kissing Tom Riddle now, and it was beyond everything he'd ever experienced before. No one else mattered but the two of them.

After an eternity or two Riddle finally pulled away and Harry realised they had an audience. There were about thirty students from all years and houses staring at them. Harry wished he had his invisibility cloak so that he could just disappear.

"That's right," Riddle addressed the crowd. "The new boy's off the market. You can go now."

The crowd murmured as it dispersed and Riddle turned back to Harry.

Harry hit him. Hard.

Riddle grabbed Harry's wrists and squeezed them painfully, yanking them behind his back so hard they threatened dislocation. "You will not hit me." He fixed his gaze on Harry's, looking very much like the snake-like Lord Voldemort, to see if he'd gotten the message, then dropped his wrists.

A tear squeezed itself from Harry's eye unbidden. He kneed Riddle in the groin and stood before Riddle could collect himself. Harry didn't have the vocabulary to describe what he was feeling. The _dictionary_ probably didn't have the words. He walked away without looking back, rubbing his sore wrists.

x x x

Later Harry sat with his back against the wall in a dark corridor, thinking he'd been a bit irrational about the whole thing. Yes, he'd been embarrassed but he hadn't had to react like that. Riddle probably thought he was crazy if he wasn't furious with him. It was the first time Harry actually cared what Riddle thought of him.

But Riddle had shown his dark side once again. Harry rubbed the resulting bruises on his wrists. Harry knew that Riddle would be that person. He would become Voldemort, mass murderer and all around terrifying Dark Lord. How was Harry still willing to put up with that? He wasn't going to be a battered wife. The one who went back for more abuse just for the two seconds of the day when he would remember that he thought he loved her. Harry refused to be that person. Harry couldn't. Harry wouldn't. He'd give as hard as he got every time. Eventually Riddle would learn his lesson.

_Eventually_? Harry caught himself. He didn't know how much time he had with Riddle. If Riddle wasn't perfection now, what was the point of any of it? He'd sooner go home without pursuing this.

"I'm sorry," Riddle apologised to Harry, having snuck up on him in his corridor.

"How'd you find me?" asked Harry. It hadn't yet registered that Riddle had, without prompting, apologised to him.

"I have my ways," Riddle said with a sad half-smile on his face. He wasn't amused but even now he looked perfect.

"Let me guess," said Harry. "You bullied a first year?"

Riddle scowled, but Harry didn't look up from examining his fingers. The ends were bitten rather than trimmed. "I didn't bully him," he said. "I only asked."

"Did you say thank you?" wondered Harry, trying to catch him out somehow. He didn't want to believe Riddle.

"I didn't come here for an etiquette lesson." Riddle grew frustrated, glaring at a spot on the wall above Harry's head.

"What did you come here for, then?" asked Harry.

"For you," Riddle said, kneeling before Harry. "For your forgiveness."

Harry sighed. "You can't just say you're sorry and expect that I'll believe it. Do you even know what you're apologising for?"

Riddle took Harry's wrists in his hands far more gently than the last time he'd held them. He whispered a healing spell and the purple disappeared. Harry only wished the memory and the ill feelings would go away as easily. "I'm sorry that I gave you those bruises," he said.

"It's a start," said Harry.

"I'm not going to apologise for being myself," Riddle raged, dropping Harry's wrists sharply. The Slytherin was so volatile: serene one minute, murderous the next. That was what made him so dangerous.

"Maybe not," said Harry. "But you should at least know why I think your behaviour is unacceptable. And at least try to make it acceptable if not actually succeed."

Riddle took a deep breath then exhaled slowly, releasing his anger. "I shouldn't have told you what to do. I especially shouldn't have physically restrained you. Even if it was easier."

Harry glowered at him.

Riddle went on. "I'm not the only one in the wrong, though. You need to come down off your high horse and admit that you hit me first. You don't even have being inherently evil as an excuse," he added matter of fact.

"You're right," Harry agreed. He hated agreeing with Tom. It made him question himself. "I'm sorry I hit you and I will try not to do it again. Even if you deserve it."

"Thank you," said Tom, moving to sit beside Harry. "Why did you hit me, anyway?"

"I don't like being objectified," said Harry. "You made us into some sort of show. I can't know that you mean anything if you make fun of it all the time."

Riddle nodded, still listening.

"And _I_ wasn't even sure about us," said Harry. "I don't need other people poking their noses in where it doesn't belong. I get enough of that at home," he muttered.

"Are you famous?" asked Riddle, catching that last bit.

"Yes," said Harry.

"What for?"

Harry smirked. "Defeating the greatest dark wizard of my time."

Riddle laughed. "Good one. You've as much as said I'm still around."

"Hey!" protested Harry. "I can take you."

"You're just a kid," pointed out Riddle.

"So are you," said Harry.

"I mean later, in the future. I'll know a lot more and you'll barely be born."

Harry shrugged. It was better that Riddle didn't believe him.

"We're good now, right? Back to the how it was before?" asked Riddle, nudging him slightly with his shoulder.

Harry nodded, leaning slightly on Riddle's comforting shoulder. They were better, really. It scared Harry. He didn't need to get attached. "Just dandy, Riddle."

"I wish you wouldn't call me that," Riddle snapped. He was like a guitar string, Harry mused. Stretched, vibrating peacefully. Then twang! It gets you right in the eye. "I don't like to be reminded of my stupid muggle father."

"There's nothing wrong with having a muggle father," said Harry.

Riddle sneered. "Of course there is. It dilutes the lines." He looked down at the veins in his hands as though willing the unclean part to remove itself.

"He was your father. You wouldn't be the person you are today if not for him."

"No," said Riddle. "I'd be better. Stronger. More powerful."

Harry rolled his eyes. "I'm half-blooded too, you know," letting a little honesty slip through, before going with the story he'd told the Gryffindor boys. "My father was muggle-born but my mother was pure-blooded."

"At least your father could do magic," said Riddle.

"Fat lot of good that did him." Not when Voldemort was determined that he should die.

"He's dead, isn't he?"

A chill ran down Harry's spine. It was as though Riddle was willing to make sure that he was dead, just so that he'd be right. "Yes," said Harry. "So is my mother."

"You and I really are rather alike, aren't we? Even our colouring is similar."

"I'm not as pasty as you are," said Harry, pettily. "Seriously. We've spent every late afternoon outside for over a week and you're as pale as ever."

"I am not," said Riddle, though Harry couldn't see how he could disagree.

"It's all the in-breeding," said Harry, ignoring his own pure-blooded father for the moment. He didn't think his family was pure all the way back to Slytherin's time. "Your relatives would have done anything to keep your blood pure."

"Fat lot of good that did them," Riddle copied Harry's words.

"If your grandfather wasn't insane," said Harry, revealing what he knew of Riddle's beginnings. "And had let your mother pursue your father in the normal way she probably would have realised he wasn't worth the time sooner."

"Meaning she would have gone on to have a pure-blooded child," said Riddle. "And maintained the purity they were aiming for."

Harry sighed. "I don't understand why you'd rather not exist than be half-blooded. If it's so terrible then why don't you kill yourself?"

"Why kill myself when I can kill all of _them_?" said Riddle. "Why kill myself when I can stop it from happening again?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "If you really could, I wouldn't exist. I don't think I'll ever understand you," he added, expressing it with a certain amount of fondness, as one would an exasperating younger brother. The emotions were the same but the repercussions were far more serious. Most little brothers don't grow up to be mass murderers, capable of genocide. "But if you keep going I'm going to have to stop you."

"I wouldn't want it any other way," said Riddle, wrapping an arm around Harry. Harry turned and wrapped his own arms around Riddle fully. It felt like their first real embrace, the cement of the foundation of their relationship. It made Harry's insides tingle with warmth.

"So what am I supposed to call you?" asked Harry.

"Pardon?" Riddle seemed distracted. Harry thought he might be sniffing his hair.

"You said you didn't want me to call you Riddle. Tom was also your father's name, so it's the same thing."

Riddle opened his mouth to speak, but Harry quickly cut in.

"And I'm not going to call you Voldemort." He shuddered as he imagined sitting with Voldemort like this. A Voldemort who'd murdered hundreds of innocent people whether directly or indirectly.

"You know about that?" Riddle grinned. "Good."

Harry rolled his eyes. He probably shouldn't tell Riddle that his name was so feared that most people wouldn't even say it.

"I guess 'my Lord' is out of the question?" Riddle continued with a smirk.

Harry wanted to hit him, but he'd just made a promise not to. "Imagine I just hit you," he said. "Because I really wanted to."

Riddle laughed and pulled Harry closer to him. "You can call me whatever you'd like to call me. My name always sounds much nicer coming from your lips."

"Riddle it is," decided Harry, not really wanting to change a habit.

"Not Tom?"

"Tom," Harry tried it out, rolling it off his tongue. "Tom." He felt the way Riddle's breathing picked up the pace and liked it. "Okay. Tom."

"Can I kiss you now?" Tom asked him.

Harry grinned and nodded. When Tom kissed him, all life's worries drifted away.

x X X x

_March 1997_

A week after Ron's birthday, having made no further progress on the Horcrux issue, came the day of Gryffindor's Quidditch match against Hufflepuff. The team was all riled up and prepared to take down Zacharias Smith after his disparaging commentary at their last match. It was a good thing, as Dean and Ginny had been having trouble uniting after their break-up. Practices had turned into slanging matches quickly. Demelza was often caught between the two of them, unwilling to throw the Quaffle to either when she caught it lest the other accuse her of favouritism.

"It's not perfect weather," said Ron to his team before the match. "And Hufflepuff's seen us play now so we haven't got the element of surprise. We can't be overconfident just because we beat Slytherin. Hufflepuff have their regular line up playing, no substitutions but we can still make this work for us. We still have Chasers that can score through a Bowtruckle's hole, Beaters who hit harder than a Hippogriff, a Seeker with eyes sharper than a Kneazle's, and well, I've got Harry's broom."

"You can block like an Erumpent," Ginny supplied.

"Thanks Gin," said Ron. "We just have to make the conditions work for us. Peakes, Coote- you need to fly our of the sun as much as possible. Chasers- look out for their Beaters doing the same thing. Fyle- be careful to remember that not everything sparkling is the Snitch."

"Look out for Beaters, too," said Ginny.

Ron was less thankful for that interruption. "Let's show Smith we know how to play Quidditch. Don't get distracted. Let's do this, but not for Harry and Katie this time. Let's do it for ourselves because out there we're the only seven people who matter."

The team charged out of the changing room with a roar, pumped up and ready to play. Madam Hooch blew her whistle and they were off.

No one had given any thought to who'd be commentating in Smith's absence, and Ron was surprised to hear Luna's dreamy voice. Ron hadn't thought she'd been particularly interested in Quidditch, except when cheering on her friends. Ron blocked one of Smith's attempts at goal and lobbed the Quaffle straight at Ginny who caught it almost backwards. There was a resounding chorus of 'Weasley is our King' from the Gryffindor stands.

Ron was feeling good about their chances. He didn't have any of the same jitters he'd had before the last match. His confidence was high. He was good at this and no one could honestly say otherwise now. Luna's commentary brightened his spirits, too. It was much easier to play when she was calling Smith out as having Loser's Lurgy, than when you were the object of scorn. But not so much, thought Ron, you're too busy laughing to block a shot. He resolved to pay less attention to Luna and more attention to the Quaffle.

Gryffindor were leading 180-70 when the Seekers began a chase for the Snitch. It became obvious that the Hufflepuff Seeker was pulling ahead. The Quaffle was coming his way, too and Ron was feeling resigned to the fact that he'd again miss seeing the catch as he shouted to Peakes to go after Hufflepuff's Seeker. It was quite a risky move to aim a Bludger at a Seeker during a chase because it was highly likely that you hit your own instead. But they'd been practising recently and Ron thought it might be worth a shot. He saw the Quaffle coming at him from the corner of his eye and blocked it.

Ron watched as Peakes made his shot, but he was too late. The Hufflepuff Seeker got his hands around the Snitch and the whistle blew. The crowd's cheers turned into shock as the Bludger hit the Hufflepuff Seeker clear in the back. It would leave a bruise, but it wasn't a serious injury judging by the way he continued to hold up the Snitch triumphant.

The final score was 190-220, thanks to a last second shot from Demelza. Ron was glad he'd been drilling the Chasers on keeping their eyes on the Quaffle while Snitch chases were taking place.

The Gryffindor team was rather despondent when they got back to the changing room and Ron knew that what he said now would be just as important as what he'd said before the match. Luckily, it was here that his years of watching the Chudley Cannons lose came in handy. "Everyone played well today," he began.

"You're just saying that because you have to," said Fyle, most dejected. He was aware that if he'd caught the Snitch they would have won.

"I'm not," said Ron. "Our Chasers were excellent. We had the higher Quaffle possession rate, and you spread it around so that their Keeper never knew who it was coming from next. I know it came a split second too late, but Peakes you hit that Seeker like a bullseye and I know you couldn't have taken the shot a second sooner or you would have. I'd hate to have lost a Seeker as well as a match.

"And Fyle, you came close. Don't think I didn't see how the Beaters started out targeting you before they realised Ginny was getting too many shots off. You stayed on your broom and in the game. Their captain's probably reaming out their Seeker for catching the Snitch so soon. It's going to be hard for them in their next match since we scored so well. I wouldn't like to be their Keeper either, he let nineteen in. We might have lost, but we played really well. As Gryffindors, I think we can be proud."

By the end of Ron's speech, everyone on the team had a smile on their face. They didn't realise they should be worried. At their next practice Ron was going to be reminding them of all their faults. But even Ron walked away from the changing room proud. he had a good team to captain. Ravenclaw had better look out next time.

x x x

Professor Slughorn was hosting a spring celebration for the Slug Club and anyone else they deigned worthy. Hermione was actually looking forward to this party and not because of what had happened with Ron after his last party. Slughorn had invited several prominent, high profile witches whose career paths she was thinking of taking.

Apparently Hermione talked so much about how excited she was to be attending that Ron had been bored by all the talk, and not even a promise of a repeat of the last party could make him say he wanted to attend (though he still would). At the beginning of the school year Ron had been disappointed to not be invited to join the Slug Club and now he couldn't care less. But Hermione put her foot down when Ron talked of scheduling Quidditch practice during the meeting. She thought it was important that Ginny be able to meet these influential women and made him push it forward.

Hermione's excitement level was so high that on top of everything else she had on her plate, she volunteered to help Slughorn set up. So on Sunday afternoon Hermione made her way down to Slughorn's office. She was even looking forward to seeing Professor Slughorn himself as he'd been in a particularly good mood all week. Ron thought it was disgusting that she would rather spend time with Slughorn than with him, but she reminded him that he'd scheduled Quidditch practice first.

Hermione knocked on Slughorn's office door. It was locked. She knocked again. "Professor Slughorn? It's Hermione Granger. I'm here to help set up." She knocked again. "Professor?"

There was still no response. Perhaps Hermione had mistaken the location for their meeting. She looked for Slughorn in the Great Hall, the Astronomy Tower, near the gardens and even the Room of Requirement before going back to Slughorn's office. She knocked again. Called out again. Got no response again.

Hermione went up to Dumbledore's office to see if he knew where he was. She ended up explaining the situation to Professor McGonagall since Dumbledore wasn't around. "I believe Professor Slughorn is in his office," said Professor McGonagall. "I suspect he's imbibed too much."

Hermione frowned. "But there's a party tonight. Why would he start so early?"

"Perhaps I'd best floo to check on him," said McGonagall.

"It's okay, Professor," said Hermione. "I can do it."

"No. It's hardly appropriate."

"Alright Professor. I'll wait outside his door."

When Hermione arrived outside Professor Slughorn's office she could hear McGonagall trying to rouse him. "Horace you know better than to have a drink when you're expecting guests. Visitors from outside of the school! After Hogwarts has spent all this time building its reputation you'll let it all go with drink!"

Hermione waited patiently, then less so when she heard Professor McGonagall exclaim, "Oh my word!"

"Professor?" Hermione called through the door. "Is everything alright?"

"Yes Hermione," she said stiffly. "Would you please run and fetch Madam Pomfrey?"

That did not sound good. Professor McGonagall had never called her by her first name before. "Right away Professor McGonagall." As she left she heard the Deputy Headmistress attempt to revive him with a spell.

Madam Pomfrey was with a third-year Hufflepuff with boils on his face when Hermione arrived at the hospital wing. "Madam Pomfrey, Professor McGonagall sent me. She's with Professor Slughorn in his office. I'm afraid he's had rather too much to drink."

Madam Pomfrey shook her head. "I warned him," she said, snatching the necessary potions from her cabinet and throwing them into a medical bag. She turned to the Hufflepuff. "Stay in bed," she commanded. "Lead the way Miss Granger."

A few students stared as they went past. Blaise Zabini was waiting outside Professor Slughorn's office when Hermione and the nurse got there. "What's going on?" he asked.

"Back to your common room, Mister Zabini," called Professor McGonagall from inside the office.

Zabini didn't look like he wanted to comply, but Madam Pomfrey stared him down. Every Hogwarts student knew not to cross the school nurse because sooner or later you'd be in the hospital wing and she could make your time spent there very unpleasant. He walked away. Hermione would bet that he'd be back once Madam Pomfrey was gone.

Madam Pomfrey knocked on the office door. "Minerva, it's Poppy."

"Thank heavens. Come in. Come in." The door was unlocked and Madam Pomfrey entered, followed by Hermione. The place looked normal enough to Hermione. Slughorn seemed to be asleep in an armchair. A glass had fallen from his hand onto the floor and in front of him sat an almost full bottle of mead. That didn't seem right. He'd passed out after one glass?

McGonagall was too pale, and Madam Pomfrey got to work immediately. As she crouched beside Slughorn, Hermione came into the Deputy Headmistress' view. "Miss Granger you may go now."

Hermione wasn't going anywhere, afraid of what she was seeing. "But Professor..." She didn't even think of an excuse. She only maintained her stare at Slughorn's still unmoving face. "There isn't going to be a party tonight, is there?" was all she could say.

"I'm afraid not," said Professor McGonagall. "If you'd be so kind as to inform the other students." She was hardly paying Hermione attention at all. "Please just go."

Hermione left, shutting the door behind her. As predicted, Zabini was back.

"Professor Slughorn's taken ill," said Hermione. "The party's cancelled."

Zabini stared at her. "Ill how?"

"I don't know," she said impatiently. "Could you please tell the other Slytherins?"

Zabini nodded. "Okay." He went away, presumably to discuss what he'd just seen with someone else.

Mechanically, Hermione marked the Slytherins off her mental list of party guests. She pulled a piece of parchment from her book bag, wrote a notice and pinned it to Slughorn's door with a sticking charm. Then she went to find someone else to tell. She ran into Zacharias Smith on her way to the Great Hall and decided she might as well tell him about the cancelled party, though she generally avoided speaking with him. He reluctantly agreed to tell the invited members of his house.

A moment later she burst into tears, unable to compose herself. Slughorn was dead. Murdered right within Hogwarts walls. Nowhere was safe. No one was safe. She collected herself a little and abandoned her task, instead going out to the Quidditch Pitch where Ron was. The team was up in the air when she arrived. Hermione sat down on the grass and watched them, unwilling to bear climbing up the stairs into the stands. It was sort of peacefully mesmerising to watch them zoom around in strange formations. From here she couldn't hear any of Ron's commands. She desperately wished he come down and envelop her in a hug. This was enough for now, though, seeing that he was still alive. That Ginny was still breathing.

Not long passed before Ron let the rest of the team in the air and came down to sit with Hermione. "What happened to Slughorn's party?" he asked.

"Oh Ron," she said, throwing her arms around him, not caring that he was sweaty and dirty. "Slughorn's dead," she managed to say. "I don't know what's going to happen now."

Ron hugged her back, stroking her hair absently while his mind disconnected. "Slughorn's dead? How?"

"Poisoned I think," said Hermione. "We aren't safe here. We aren't safe anywhere."

"Are you sure he's dead?" said Ron. "Maybe it was an accident."

"If it was an accident," said Hermione. "They accidentally poisoned the wrong person. It could have been meant for anyone."

Ron called off practice when Ginny came down to investigate. He didn't tell her what was going on, so she assumed it was something personal. Ron tried his best to calm down his girlfriend, but nothing was working. He just sat with his arm around her, watching the sun set, wondering all the while if it would be the last one he saw from Hogwarts grounds.

x x x

The official announcement of Slughorn's death came after breakfast the next morning. The entire school was stunned. The Aurors launched an investigation and Hermione was called into the now returned Professor Dumbledore's office to give them a statement. She didn't have anything to say and they wouldn't tell her anything.

The Aurors found no evidence that the bottle had been intended for anyone but Slughorn and Madam Rosmerta from the Three Broomsticks claimed to have been Imperiused when it was sent. But this was a war and people wanted to see arrests and action. She was duly arrested and the public were led to believe that she'd been in You-Know-Who's employ the entire time.

There was an official funeral held, though none of the students were allowed to attend as it was off Hogwarts grounds. The students held a separate memorial service on the same day. Hermione helped prepare it, thinking all the while that it wasn't the event she'd been planning with Slughorn.

The Ministry sent a temporary potions master replacement for Slughorn, the same one who'd supervised the Potions OWL last year. And that, it seemed, was that. Case closed... in the eyes of the law, at least. Hermione still had her own questions.

So Hogwarts remained open. That didn't stop many students from leaving. The Patil twins were called home by the afternoon of the first day, and Zacharias Smith's father came to collect him himself. That was the only good thing that came of Slughorn's death.

x X X x

A/N: If you didn't have the song Never Smile At A Crocodile in your head by the end of this chapter then you didn't have the same upbringing that I did. And I guess the next chapter will be up in another week or so.


	13. Luck

**Time and Again**

**Author's Note: **Thanks everyone for all the reviews! This is officially the story with the most reviews out of all my stories now. Sorry if I missed replying to you last chapter. I got interrupted and forgot who I'd already sent replies to.

Mixed reactions to Slughorn's death, which was good. I was worried everyone was going to say it was ridiculous. Frankly I thought it was more ridiculous that with Harry missing, the poison would still have gone to Ron. I could have perhaps saved Slughorn, but I thought it was too neat.

And here's where this story starts to earn its rating, launching from a tidbit from a couple of chapters ago that I'm not sure anyone caught because they didn't mention it in a review.

**Chapter 12 - Luck**

_April 1945_

The rest of March passed frightfully quickly when Harry stopped to think about it. He'd spent every waking moment with Tom, oblivious to the stares and comments of the other students. He did notice, however, Headmaster Dippet's knowing expression and took care to avoid it at mealtimes.

Harry began sharing more of his secrets, unwittingly. If Tom was his boyfriend, they should share experiences like those he'd had with Ron and Hermione, minus all the drama. They sat in the kitchens together, where Harry taught Tom the right way to get the house elves to do anything for you, and one time Harry even showed Tom the secret passage into Honeydukes' cellar. When Harry actually thought about it, it was a really stupid thing to do because while he and the twins would be likely to sneak out for harmless reasons- buying sweets or pranking supplies- Tom would sneak out for bloodbaths and murdering supplies.

Harry couldn't take it back, but the guilt lay heavily on him, causing him to become irritable. He couldn't keep himself away from Tom, but at times he couldn't stand to be near him, either. At least, reasoned Harry, the more time he spent with Tom the less likely the Slytherin was to get up to mischief.

Harry hadn't, however, shown Tom the Room of Requirement. That was too magical. He wanted to keep that his secret, the ace up his sleeve for times when he couldn't stand Tom. It was the place that connected him to Ron and Hermione. Though his letters were infrequent and probably not detailed enough, they were his only link to the future. To his real friends. His real home. His real time.

It was no surprise, really, that the pair soon had another argument. It was as though every thought they'd put to the side came back to haunt them. Harry was only surprised that it happened the way it did.

"When I finish Hogwarts I want you to come with me," said Tom. "There isn't really much point in you staying here. They aren't going to give you your NEWTs when they don't know how you've gone on your OWLs."

Harry wasn't sure how to respond to that. It was wrong on so many levels. "Who says they won't let me take them? There isn't much point in letting me stay now if they don't."

"But you don't need to take them," said Tom.

"Why? Because you're going to provide for me and let you be my trophy husband?" Harry would never let Tom do that. Not even if he agreed with whatever way he earned his money.

"What?" Tom was confused. "I'm not talking about marriage."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better? I won't be your kept man."

"You already know what I'm going to become. You won't want for anything."

"If you think I'm going to stick around while you torture people to death you've got another thing coming."

"What?" said Tom again. Harry hadn't known he could be so ineloquent.

"I mean," said Harry. "I'm going to find a way to get back to where I belong. And NEWTs will help me accomplish that." Harry knew he had to make it back somehow. He thought he would have heard of himself in a history book if that happened. He'd just begun to accept that whatever he did here had already happened in his time.

"So you're just going to leave me here?"

"Like you said," said Harry. "I know what's going to happen and I've never heard of myself before."

"You can't just leave." Tom's eyes flashed red.

"You don't want me to go home, is that it?"

"I want you to stay here with me. I thought you would want to stay with me."

"I don't belong here,' said Harry. "This isn't right."

"Well maybe in the future you do leave. Maybe that's why I turn out as evil as you think I am."

"Are you blackmailing me?" Harry was incredulous. It was emotional blackmail.

"All I know is that since you've been here everything has started revolving around you. I hadn't even thought about alll the plans I'd made for after Hogwarts. It's all you."

Harry thawed a little. That was exactly how he felt about Tom. "I'm sorry," said Harry. "I thought you'd realised this wasn't permanent. I didn't think you'd care."

"Care about you? Of course I do."

"You have a funny way of showing it. I can never tell if you like me for me or just because I'm from the future and can tell you things more clearly than a Seer."

"Because I'm just a machine, right?" said Tom, anticipating Harry's words. "I don't have any feelings."

"Of course you have feelings," said Harry. "Just... not good ones."

Riddle took a deep breath. "You've never come out and said anything about how you're feeling, either. You didn't tell me you didn't think you'd be here permanently. It's like you've been stringing me along. If you weren't so frigid I'd think _you _were using _me_."

Harry baulked. "You think I'm frigid? I didn't realise you were such a slut."

"I've had to make every first move between us," said Tom. "And you've been uncomfortable with all of them."

"Is that supposed to be my fault? Because I don't throw myself at you like every whore in this school?"

"I don't expect you to be like them. I wouldn't want you if you did. But I do expect you to act like you want to be with me."

"Have you ever heard the saying 'Actions speak louder than words'?"

"So you don't want to be with me?"

"I'm saying that it's difficult for me to get my head around you and time and dark magic. And besides that, has it never occurred to you that you're my first boyfriend? My first real relationship, actually."

Tom was visibly surprised.

Harry felt like crying, but thought that was acting too much like a girl. "You really do think I'm a slut," he said.

Tom quickly pulled Harry into a hug. Harry let him. "I should have asked more about you and less about the future. I forgot that a relationship isn't all about me."

Harry collapsed into Tom, a few silent tears escaping him. Tom was being a person. A person whom Harry was going to have difficulty leaving. The pressure of the whole situation got to him and he sobbed on Tom's shoulder. For his part, Tom held Harry and didn't ask any more questions.

x x x

Things were almost too easy between Harry and Tom after that. They started really talking. A lot. And then there was the making out. They had only gotten to hands under shirts because Harry wasn't comfortable taking that any farther. He was still a virgin and part of him still really wanted to hold onto that, even though Tom wasn't going to be

That one point did almost sway Harry. Who would he lose his virginity to if he waited until he got back home? It certainly wouldn't be happening any time soon. He'd have to mourn losing Tom first. And after that... would he lose his virginity to someone who wasn't his boyfriend? Slut around like Tom thought he had been?

Harry didn't like thinking about the future. It was a future without Tom. A future filled with Voldemort and violence. And his friends, he missed his friends. He wanted to go back, and he hated the idea of leaving Tom behind but there was nothing else for it.

Over the course of the month they managed to accumulate a few of what Harry privately thought of as their spots. One of them was the floor of Greenhouse Six. The pair of them would sit underneath a canopy of singing vine. Since it was spring, it was only just getting into its groove, singing quietly. By the time summer came around it would be singing louder than a Fwooper, and cause similar effects in anyone listening to it.

Harry had just finished telling the story of how he, Ron and Hermione had become friends. He'd decided to call them Rudolph and Henrietta, and amused himself imagining Ron and Hermione's faces when he told them.

"There are some things you can't help coming out as friends after," said Harry. "Facing down a mountain troll is one of them."

"And that was first year?" said Tom, seeming mildly impressed. Harry did enjoy surprising Tom.

"Yeah," said Harry. On the other hand, Tom probably had much lower standards for Harry than he did for himself.

"In my first year," said Tom. "I went into the Forbidden Forest for the first time and was mauled by a unicorn."

His one sentence story had a wealth of meaning for Harry. He was happy that Tom was telling him a story where he wasn't some great hero. Though Harry sensed that there was more to the story, he was glad Tom had told it. It did, however, remind Harry of his own first journey into the Forbidden Forest- when he and Draco Malfoy had come across Voldemort drinking from a unicorn. Harry wondered if perhaps Voldemort's apathy toward unicorns stemmed from this incident... or if he'd attempted the same as a first year.

"I ran into a unicorn my first time in the forest, too," was all Harry said.

Tom looked out of the greenhouse at the sky. Then he looked at Harry. "Do you want to go there?" he asked with a glint in his eye.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Into the Forest?"

"You're not scared, are you?" asked Tom.

Scared, wasn't the right word for it. Apprehensive, perhaps. "What for?" asked Harry. How long did centaurs live? What if he ran into someone he knew? The centaurs seemed as though they wouldn't be fooled by Harry's scarring. They'd still know it was him. On the other hand, there was no way Aragog could have built up a particularly large family yet.

"Just for fun," said Tom.

The idea of Tom Marvolo Riddle doing anything just for fun amused Harry, so he went along with it. "Sure," he said. "Let's do it."

They walked hand in hand down to the Forest's edge, unseen by anyone else. It looked the same as ever, though there was no Whomping Willow of course, and no passage to the Shrieking Shack because there was no Shrieking Shack, either. When they'd sneaked out to Hogsmeade, Harry was amused to see that the shack was actually somebody's very well-kept home. It was too picturesque and Harry couldn't imagine a werewolf running rampant in it unchecked. He imagined a stern witch would have hit it with a cauldron before it got that far.

The sunlight filtered through the forest's canopy casting a weak glow across everything. It added a rather attractive glow to Tom's complexion. If they weren't in the forest and therefore likely to be attacked at any moment, Harry would have pulled Tom over for a quick snog.

Tom caught him staring and smirked. They paused, and Tom pushed Harry up against the nearest tree, kissing the life out of him.

Harry broke away after a moment. "Do you really want to be mauled by another unicorn?" asked Harry.

Tom shrugged, a laid back smile on his face. He took Harry's hand and they continued their walk through the forest. "Oh look," said Tom, dropping Harry's hand and bending down beside a plant. "Asphodel."

All Harry could see was a plant that grew like rosemary with yellow-green berries. He could dimly remember Snape's voice echoing in his head. Of course Tom would fixate upon a potions ingredient. "Draught of the Living Death?" Harry could remember that being the first of his failed potions back in his Hogwarts with his Slughorn. It had been almost perfect, thanks to the Prince's book, before Malfoy had distracted him.

"The roots are used in that potion," said Tom. He seemed to be bending to dig it up. "It's not native to Britain. I'm surprised it's growing so well here."

That was all well and good, thought Harry. But it was kind of boring. He hadn't pegged Tom for being a herbologist, not even after he'd told the long story of the singing creeper they sat beneath. "You're not actually, stocking up are you?" asked Harry at Tom conjured a small trowel and a few potions vials.

Tom looked at Harry. "Do you know how rare this plant is? I can't even begin to describe the potency differences that occur between dry and fresh. If I don't pick it now I might not get my hands on any of the fresh stuff any time soon." He seemed mesmerised by the plant's promise. Harry rolled his eyes. If he'd wanted to get involved with Snape he would have stayed back in his own time.

"You're not actually going to make Draught of Living Death, are you?" asked Harry. If the fresh stuff was more potent would that mean you could actually kill someone? That was the sort of thing Voldemort would want to test.

Tom looked up at Harry, blinking. "Strictly for educational purposes, of course."

"Of course," Harry agreed. If Tom wanted to get rid of someone he'd just kill them. No need to fuss about with a potion that only gave the appearance of death. "But that's a sixth year potion. I thought you'd be above it."

"There's always more to be learnt," said Tom. He slid the bottles of ingredients he'd collected into his robe pockets. He was still holding something in his hand and popped some into his mouth. "And the fruits taste pretty good too." Tom handed a couple to Harry.

Harry eyed them cautiously, but Tom had eaten them, so they couldn't really be poisonous. He almost spat them out immediately. They did not taste very good. They were exceedingly bitter. He rinsed his mouth out with a little conjured water. The taste was still there.

Tom laughed. "I happen to like them."

Harry shook his head. "That's disgusting. How could you eat those?"

"Delicacies are wasted on you," said Tom. He leaned forward and kissed Harry deeply, his tongue licking the flavour out of the crevices of Harry's mouth. Harry only tasted Tom, glad to be rid of the fruit. They pulled away panting and as always Tom recovered first. "Let's go back," he said, wrapping an arm across Harry's shoulders. Harry thought his suggestion was more to do with his gathered potions ingredients than anything else, but he wasn't complaining.

As they made their way back to the castle, Harry couldn't help but think this was the first good experience he'd ever had in the Forbidden Forest.

x x x

Harry and Tom were in the midst of one of their usual long snog sessions. As always, Tom seemed to want to push it farther, and as always Harry refused to take it anywhere close to having their clothes removed.

Tom couldn't take it any more and he pulled back forcefully, yanking Harry out of his comfortable lust gaze.

"Is something wrong?" asked Harry.

"I should be asking you that," said Tom. "Why don't you want to sleep with me?"

"I do," said Harry quickly, not wanting Tom to get too upset.

"Liar," said Tom, eyes flashing red.

Harry continued. "It's too soon."

"Too soon? Why?"

"Well," said Harry, unsure how to continue. "Because it will be my first time, for one."

Tom rolled his eyes. "I know that."

"How could you know that?" Harry's eyes narrowed.

"Well you did say this was your first real relationship and that you weren't a slut. I chose to believe you."

"What about you, then?" said Harry. "Are you a virgin?"

Tom let out a laugh. "Really?" It was as though virginity was something unsentimental that was best removed as quickly as possible. Harry didn't think like that. He didn't really see the point if there weren't some deeper connection than the carnal.

Harry was unprepared for the rush of jealousy that overtook him. "Who?" he asked before he stopped to wonder why he should care. Tom was older than he was. Voldemort had probably slept with a tonne of men and women, if only to emotionally abuse them. He couldn't be that good looking and not use his looks for seduction.

"A few older Slytherins," said Tom. "You wouldn't know them."

And there was more than one. Of course. Actually, the fact that Harry wouldn't be able to confront these people made Harry suspicious. "I think you're lying."

Tom's eyes flashed in anger, then he became artificially calm. "Only to spare your feelings," he said. "You needn't be ashamed by your own lack of prowess."

The insult almost made Harry want to jump him right then and there, but Harry refrained. "Well they say it's like riding a broom," he said. "And I had that down in my first lesson. By the end of it I was on the Quidditch team."

"You'll find," said Tom. "That the two experiences are very different."

"I will find out one day," said Harry. "But not today."

"Why not?" asked Tom, an almost petulant tone to his voice. Petulant, but dangerous. Like a child with her hand on a bomb's trigger.

"We just can't," said Harry. He couldn't work out how to tell Tom that he didn't want to lose his virginity in the past. That it would be like leaving part of himself behind. How could he say it without being too sentimental? That was the problem with his relationship with Tom. He was forever trying not to get too attached. Even as he fell he couldn't help trying to hang on and slow his descent. It wasn't even about whether or not Tom was evil anymore (because it was so easy to forget that for a moment), only about time and its consequences.

"Am I not good enough for you?" Tom's anger was steadily increasing. Tom had too much pride. "Because of my condition?"

Harry hadn't even thought about what Tom had told him when he'd pretended he was his grandson. "This isn't about you."

"Isn't it? You're refusing to sleep with _ME_." There was too much emphasis on that last word. Tom was starting to creep over the edge. An edge Harry hadn't seen him near except as Voldemort.

"I'm refusing to sleep with anyone," said Harry.

"Liar," said Tom, filling with rage.

Harry's own anger was solidifying, so much that he didn't care about Tom being angry anymore. "I can't believe you just said that. I thought we were over this."

"Well it's true, isn't it? You are a liar. You're incapable of speaking the truth."

"Because I'm stuck here in the past! I don't want to screw things up."

"It's because you don't trust me," said Tom.

And it was true, Harry didn't trust him. He trusted Tom to be charming and handsome and evil. There was no way that Tom could prove to Harry that he wasn't. "Because you're Tom Marvolo Riddle. You're fucking Lord Voldemort!"

"But you won't," said Tom, cold-blooded. "You won't fuck Lord Voldemort."

Harry's anger faded in the face of that truth. He couldn't sleep with Tom because he would never sleep with Voldemort.

"Am I so repulsive to you?" asked Tom.

"No," said Harry immediately.

"Then prove it," said Tom, coming closer to Harry, unbuttoning his shirt so that Harry could see his marble pale chest, and the glint of the ouroboros pendent that was a promise.

Harry's two sides fought against each other violently. He almost gave up and gave in- almost succumbed. But he didn't. "I shouldn't have to."

Tom raged, and Harry clutched his wand, ready to defend himself. "You won't have sex with me because you think I'm impotent."

Tom was too self-absorbed. Harry couldn't even argue with him when he was like this. "If you're going to be like this, I'm leaving," he said, walking away. Tom didn't even make a move to stop him.

x x x

Harry was up in his dorm sitting on his bed pretending to study. Abe and Mihail were downstairs in the common room and Etienne was studying on his own bed. Instead, Harry was thinking about Tom and their most recent argument. It was unsettling leaving an argument behind, but Tom wasn't behaving rationally. You can't argue with a crazy person. It made sense to set it aside for a moment. But Harry was resisting the urge to go looking for Tom and apologising even though he hadn't done anything wrong. He didn't want to be in an argument. Harry sighed.

Etienne looked at Harry pityingly and Harry tried to pretend it was because he couldn't find a homework answer. "Where is snailwort most likely to be found?"

"Arid sections of the Western United States of America. Best picked at dawn," said Etienne mechanically.

Harry wrote that down, even though he suspected he was meant to know more about it than that.

There was a knock on the door and then it opened. To Harry's surprise it wasn't one of his roommates or another Gryffindor, but instead Tom. Harry brightened immediately. Tom must have calmed down if he was seeking Harry out like this.

"Excuse me," said Tom to Etienne politely. "Do you mind leaving us alone?" He used his most charming smile on Etienne.

The French boy didn't fall for it. He looked at Harry for a hint.

"Please, Etienne," said Harry. "We really need to talk."

Etienne conceded. "I'll be in the library," he said, gathering his things and leaving.

Harry swept his books into his trunk and shut it, as Tom shut and locked the door behind Etienne. When Harry looked up, Tom was no longer smiling.

He frowned at Harry. "I'll show you who's impotent." He uncorked a potions vial and downed the red liquid.

"What was that?" Harry asked nervously.

Tom didn't answer the question. A sinister smile crept onto his face and he stepped toward Harry on the bed, divesting himself of his outer robe. He slid his shoes off and joined Harry on the bed. "Hello Evan," he said silkily.

"Hello Tom," said Harry. "Why are you here?"

"I thought it was obvious, Evan," he said, loosening his Slytherin tie.

Tom leaned forward and kissed Harry. Harry found himself lying on his back at Tom's mercy. Though he told himself that he shouldn't let Tom so close until they'd resolved their earlier disagreement, Harry was quickly forgetting what they'd argued about and losing himself in the sensations.

Somehow Tom had gotten Harry's shirt off and was working on his trousers. Harry thought it really was rather too warm for those and he helped by lifting his hips off the bed. His fingertips found the buttons of Tom's shirt, but Tom pushed Harry's hand lower, to the button on Tom's trousers. Dimly, Harry thought that was fair enough. His own pants were off. Then Harry's hand slid beneath Tom's underpants and he was holding Tom's very large, very long, length.

Harry drew back quickly and remembered. In all their make out sessions, Harry had never once felt Tom gain an erection. He'd never asked or been offended, figuring it was the result of whatever it was that had caused him to be unable to have children. Yet Tom was hard now, and Harry guessed it was the effect of the potion. Perhaps he should have mentioned it, maybe then they wouldn't be here now.

Harry scooted back from Tom, drawing up his knees. "No. We're not doing this now."

The words, of course, enraged Tom. Harry expected Tom to fume and yell. He did not expect Tom to forcefully pull his legs away from his chest and kneel on them, immobilising him. He did not expect Tom to grab his wrists (again!) and leave him defenceless. "Tom!" he protested again.

Tom bit down on one of Harry's nipples. "I said I was going to show you," he said, sounding sort of detached.

Harry was terrified and furious, reminded of Voldemort's rebirth when he'd been held hostage in a graveyard. He struggled against Tom but the other boy seemed super-human. Harry couldn't budge an inch. He never should have trusted Tom. Shouldn't have fallen for him. Shouldn't have let him get this close. Should have listened to Etienne. And now, thought Harry, his eyes not drifting from the sight of Tom's engorged dick. Now Tom was going to rape him. He was going to rip his virginity from him.

No, thought Harry. He wasn't going to let Voldemort win. He never had before and he wasn't about to start now.

At the moment Tom seemed more focused on foreplay, thankfully. Harry forced himself to calm down. Tom couldn't know how terrified his was. It wouldn't work if he did. As Tom sucked on one of his nipples, Harry moaned. "Oh, Tom..." He gasped for breath, made his voice too breathy and husky. He could do this. He just had to ignore the pain in his legs and his wrists. If he did it almost felt good. He moaned some more for good measure, struggling toward instead of against Tom. "Yes! Tom!"

Tom smirked, releasing Harry's wrists. Actually, it was more than a smirk. He was smiling. "I knew you'd see it my way."

Harry didn't stop to think what that meant and continued with his show. "Oh! Yes! Mmm..." He made sure Tom's eyes were away from his hand as he slid it beneath his pillow. With the other he drew Tom in for a kiss. And then he felt familiar holly beneath his fingertips and brought it out, still kissing Tom. At the last second he disengaged. "Stupefy."

Tom's dead weight fell against him all at once, and it took all of Harry's remaining strength to roll him off. Harry turned his back on him and hugged his pillow to himself. He cried, the pillow absorbing everything.

x X X x

_April 1997_

It was scary how easily everyone recovered from Slughorn's death. Hermione guessed that that was what war did to you. Desensitised. Security measures were tightened. Students were banned from receiving anything that wasn't a piece of paper. The grounds were off limits unless chaperoned by a teacher. They thought about cancelling Quidditch, too, but instead made it mandatory for all students to attend. They didn't want anyone unsupervised (or at least unaccompanied) at any time. Hermione thought it was all too little too late.

Outside of Hogwarts, Voldemort seemed to have claimed credit for the murder, though no Dark Mark had been cast. He stepped up his raids on Muggle towns, keen on exposing magic to them and generally terrorising the British populace. Whatever Voldemort's next big strike was going to be, it was definitely coming soon. Ron wasn't so sure that whatever it was wouldn't be the end of the war. He only hoped Harry would be back before then, regardless of what Dumbledore thought. Ron knew something would be up before the school year was over.

Dumbledore, in his infinite wisdom, hadn't given up on educating Hermione and Ron on the life and times of Tom Riddle. He had, of course, had to give up any hope of the two of them wheedling the memory out of Slughorn. The man was gone and so was the memory. But even Hermione couldn't help pitying him when she saw how tired he looked, how worn and haggard. How hopeless. Hermione knew he was waiting for Harry to return just as they were. In the meantime all he could do was try to get rid of as many of Voldemort's horcruxes as he could.

Hermione was a little disgruntled to find they'd be entering a house elf's memory, but its importance was soon clear. "The cup," she said once the were all out. "And Slytherin's locket." It was the first time they were seeing Riddle post-Harry. He looked as dead and hopeless as Dumbledore did, though he hid it better behind his youth and charm.

"I believe they are now horcruxes," said Dumbledore.

That was two more to look for. That left only two more unaccounted.

"What do you think his last two are?" asked Hermione.

"As you just saw," said Dumbledore. "He obtained two Hogwarts founders' artefacts, what he deemed worthy receptacles for pieces of his soul. It seems likely that his last two would also once belong to the founders."

"Surely nothing else still exists," said Ron. "It's amazing he found two, even if the locket should have been passed to him in the beginning."

"On the contrary," said Dumbledore. "Harry has of course mentioned Gryffindor's sword."

"There's no way that's a horcrux."

"Quite right. So it seems more likely that Voldemort used something of Ravenclaw's and something else entirely." Dumbledore explained his theory about his last horcrux and Harry's death, and what he thought it was now.

Hermione and Ron shivered. What if Voldemort had succeeded in killing Harry so long ago? They wouldn't be here to have this conversation. They'd probably never be friends.

"Now," said Dumbledore. "As you will see in this next memory, Voldemort made a return to Hogwarts ten years later for reasons unknown."

The three of them dove into the memory.

"Do you think there might be one in Hogwarts?" asked Hermione.

"If there is," said Dumbledore. "It is well hidden. "I think it more likely he wanted to collect something to use."

Hermione and Ron mulled that over.

"I think," said Dumbledore. "That this is all that can be gleaned of the matter of Tom Riddle's evolution into Voldemort. We needn't view memories of the atrocities he committed to know that they affected his soul."

x x x

On the twenty-first of April, Aragog died. Hagrid sent Hermione and Ron a rather distressed message, but they both agreed that they couldn't sneak out to see Hagrid. They did, however, stop by to see him for a moment before they had to leave for their apparition test.

The school had thought about cancelling the test altogether, but apparition was a useful skill to have and it was better that they be licensed. There were several Ministry personnel available for supervision as well as most of the teachers who would have been taking the sixth years at the time. The rest remained with those who were too young, the way Harry would have been.

Absently Ron wondered if Harry was learning how to apparate as well. Harry hadn't mentioned anything in his letters, though he and Hermione hadn't received one in some time. Then again, Harry was meant to be hiding the fact that he had his wand at all, so he probably wasn't participating.

Ron imagined that if Harry were here where he was supposed to be, they both would have struggled with the spell. Hermione had managed it too easily. On this day, Ron had only managed to apparate twice. Only once had he landed in the right place. It didn't help that extra apparition lessons had been cancelled after Slughorn's death. Ron had been looking forward to the extra help.

The exams took place in the Ministry's Hogsmeade office, a shabby, little-used place. Everyone was to wait outside the testing room and one by one the students went in determined and came out with grins or disappointed looks. Surprisingly, the Patil twins showed up, having not been seen by anyone since March.

"Actually," Ron overheard Parvati telling Lavender. "Being at home we've been allowed to practise a lot more than at Hogwarts."

Lavender, Ron knew, hadn't yet been able to apparate successfully. She looked like she was about to erupt in jealousy. In an attempt to make Parvati the same Lavender spoke at length about how lovely her dorm room was now that she and Hermione had extra space, how lessons were more private and about what Professor Trelawney had confided in her.

Since they were being called in alphabetical order, it was soon Lavender's turn to enter the examination room. She entered with her head held eye and exited ten minutes later looking rather dejected. Parvati tried to comfort her but it was useless. The worst part was that having now failed, she still had to wait around for everyone else to finish as they would travel in a group to the castle. However, she was in good company when Seamus came out.

Hermione passed of course, exiting the room with a self-satisfied smile on her face. Ron hugged and kissed her in congratulations, though he was still concerned about his own test. Dean went in and came out with a frown that turned out to be a tease. He'd passed. And then it was Ron's turn. The last face he saw before he went in was Snape's strangely comforting familiar frown.

Once Ron was inside, he was surprised to see how many examiners were in the room. No one who came out had spoken about what went on in the room, knowing it wasn't exactly fair. It was probably a good idea, though, because he was bound to splinch himself. They explained that he had to apparate without splinching three times, in increasing distances, and if he failed once the test was over. He'd heard it before as Hermione was quite determined to know everything about the format of the test before showing up.

The three distances were: within the room, to a room downstairs, and one outside in Hogsmeade. Actually, the one downstairs was of most concern to Ron because he'd never seen it before. Before each of the first two jumps, he forgot about the three Ds and instead focused on how disgusted with him Snape would look if he failed. After all, he'd been getting quite good at the rest of the non-verbal spells he'd tried.

The first was fine. On the second Ron wobbled a little, but they accepted it. On the third, Ron visualised the landing and apparated right in front of the waiting examiner. Ron was elated. The examiner smiled at him and marked Ron's name with his wand. "Congratulations. You passed." Having passed, he was allowed to apparate back to the exam room, and exit with a big grin on his face.

x x x

When Ron and Hermione got back to the castle after the apparition test, Neville was waiting for them. The common rooms and dorms remained the only places students could be unsupervised in.

"How did it go?" he asked.

Ron grinned. "I passed!"

Neville was secretly glad that he wasn't old enough to take the exam yet. He didn't think he was ready yet. He needed the extra three months. "Congratulations," he said, pleased for his friend.

"I did too," said Hermione. "But Seamus didn't, so you'd best not mention it to him."

Neville nodded. He knew what that felt like.

Then there was a surprise entry into the Gryffindor common room.

"Katie!" exclaimed Ron with excitement. Half of him was pleased, glad that she was healthy, and back so that he didn't have to deal with Dean and Ginny anymore. The other half of him was less so, reminded that now he didn't have to deal with the rest of the team either as his reign as Quidditch captain was over.

"How's our team?" Katie asked Ron, after an initial rush of quick greetings, back slaps and hugs.

"Won one. Lost one. We're going to beat Ravenclaw by 170 to win the cup."

Katie grinned. "You've done such a great job."

"Well we had a good team."

"Yeah," said Katie. "And it seems like a good captain, too. I don't know who I would have picked to replace me as Chaser. I'm glad you did it."

"Well," said Ron, a little red with her praise. "You picked Fyle. He's not bad."

"Too bad I didn't get to see him play," said Katie. "But I've been thinking- there wasn't much else to do in my hospital bed- as much as I want to play Quidditch, you've captained a good team. I don't think I should shake things up too much."

"You're not quitting the team, are you?" said Ron.

"No!" said Katie. "Gosh, I've only got one more game in my Hogwarts life, I wouldn't miss it for anything. That's not what I meant. I never really wanted to be captain and I think you've proven yourself. I think you should stay captain."

"Oh," said Ron, surprised. No one had ever picked him for anything when there had ever been another option. No one but Harry, that was. He really admired Katie and to have her telling him he made a better captain was incredible. "I can't," he said.

"I'm not taking no for an answer," said Katie with a shake of her head. "You have to."

"But," said Ron. "i know the rest of the team's just been waiting for you to get back. They won't have me when they can have you."

"Oh give it up," said Katie. "Anyone with a problem can answer to me. It's not like I was meant to be captain either."

This was beyond anything Ron had ever thought possible, and Ron wondered if he'd somehow accidentally taken Felix Felicis. He turned to Hermione. "Did you hear what I just heard?"

"Yes," Hermione grinned in a way that made Ron's heart spin. "You're going to be captain for real!"

Ron's grin matched his girlfriend's. The victory was still a little hollow since Harry wasn't around, but Ron thought he might just have gotten lucky after all.

x X X x

A/N: So... what do you reckon? Next chapter in a week or so, again.


	14. Retribution

**Time and Again**

**Author's Note: **I think I, like Harry, have too much sympathy for Tom Riddle. So I almost called this chapter "Sympathy for the Devil", but I haven't purposely stolen song names so far and I didn't want to start.

Sorry this chapter's a little late. I was sick this week and I hate this chapter. It's probably full of errors since I don't want to reread it.

And thanks for all the reviews last chapter. They were totally awesome.

**Chapter 13 - Retribution**

_April 1945_

Harry eventually stopped crying. He wiped his face on his pillow, then got dressed. Finally he brought himself to look at Tom. He was still mostly dressed, his shirt partially unbuttoned and his pants pulled just low enough to expose himself. Harry didn't want to look, but he noticed that Tom's erection was gone, and thus figured the potion had worn off. As an extra precaution he stole Tom's wand from the pocket where he kept it. Keeping a bed between them, Harry pointed his wand and said "Rennervate."

Tom seemed to shock awake all at once, disoriented. He looked wildly around him, quickly redoing his trousers. Then he saw that Harry's wand was pointed toward him. He searched vainly for his own, and saw it in Harry's other hand.

"What's going on, Evan?" he asked.

"I should be asking that," said Harry. He could feel a sniffle coming upon him. He'd thought he was all cried out. "Did you or did you not come here to have sex with me after I specifically told you I wouldn't?" As much as Harry wanted to blame the entire ordeal on the potion, whatever virilitant it was, Tom had knowingly and willingly taken the potion before Harry had agreed to have sex with him. That was unforgivable.

Tom looked at Harry as though a wand weren't pointed at him. "So?"

"So?" Harry was incredulous.

"I knew you'd want it when I got here. "You only didn't want it because you thought I couldn't. You said as much."

"I suppose you know everything I'm feeling, do you? I couldn't possibly not want to have sex with you."

"Why wouldn't you? You did say you weren't repulsed by me."

"Because," said Harry. "I want to be able to choose when and where I lose my virginity. You don't get to decide that for me."

"I don't understand you," said Tom. And Harry could believe it was true. That this whole thing was a misunderstanding of insecurities. But it didn't change what Tom had done. "If you really want my why does anything else matter?" Tom had spoken fewer more romantic words in his time.

"I guess in a perfect world it shouldn't," said Harry. "But it should also be about consummation of love, not just of lust and want."

"I should have known you'd be a Hufflepuff about this." Tom was a such a teenage boy.

"Yes," said Harry. "You should have. Because we both need to know each other better before we take that step. And more than that, I have to figure out that you and the Voldemort I know in the future are the same person. I can't have sex with you if I wouldn't have sex with Voldemort. And right now I don't think I ever want that to happen."

Tom's eyes flashed red. Harry had all but contradicted what he'd said earlier about wanting to sleep with him. "I suppose you'd kiss and touch the me who exists in the future?"

"Exactly," said Harry. "I've already done too much here. I can't do more. And I don't think it's fair for you to expect it from me. Why is it so important to you?"

"I can't control myself when you're around."

"Perhaps you should learn to control yourself, first. You're never going to control me because if you do you won't want me anymore."

"Are you really so sure I'm always going to want you?"

"Well," said Harry, his old insecurities regarding Tom's affections cropping up again. "If you wanted to have sex with me just to get me out of your system then I'm glad I didn't let you."

"Because you always want to be in my system?" teased Riddle.

"No," blushed Harry. "Because I don't want to have sex with you if you don't want me for a lifetime."

"Whose lifetime? You're always saying you're going to go back to your time. You have always intended to leave me behind."

"You know what?" said Harry. "You're right. I shouldn't be involved with you if I'm not going to have sex with you. It's selfish and maybe you do turn into a crazy dark lord but you don't deserve that. We can't be together, Tom. It was stupid for us to even try."

"What? No," said Tom. "No. You aren't walking away from me again."

Harry raised his wand. "I'll stop you if I have to."

"Give me my wand, then. Let it be a fair fight."

Harry judged Tom's ire and decided he wasn't about to kill him. Harry threw him his wand. There was no way Tom would go without it.

Tom caught it easily. "Do you really think you can beat me in a duel? You may have stunned me before, but I'm prepared now." Tom raised his wand at Harry.

"I don't want to fight you," said Harry.

"Then put down your wand."

"Not until you promise you'll leave. This thing between us is over."

"It isn't unless I say it is."

"Which is exactly why we need to break up. You think you control me but you don't."

"Oh?" said Tom. "Then why do you always come back to me?"

Tom was right. Harry had always come back. Day after day. Fight after fight. He couldn't stop himself.

"This is ridiculous," said Tom. "You've tried to stay away from me for months and it hasn't worked. Why do you think it's going to stick this time?"

"You tried to rape me, Tom! You tried to force me to do something I didn't want to do. I mean, you've tried before, but never so violently and single-mindedly. You never took it this far. You really are dark and I can't be with someone like that. I can't be that person."

"I won't do it again," said Tom. "It wasn't really me. It was the potion. It's a very strong aphrodisiac. It has to be satisfied."

Harry shook his head. "You can't blame it on the potion. You came here intending to have sex with me. You took that potion before I told you that you could. You used my body against me."

"I can't help knowing which buttons to push."

"But you can help pushing them," said Harry.

"I never thought you'd say no to me," said Tom. "If I had I never would have brought the potion. You have to believe me." Tom was so overconfident and yet insecure at the same time. He looked so earnest and unlike himself that Harry wanted to believe him.

"You have to go, Tom," said Harry. "I can't believe you mean that."

"You're going to regret this," Tom vowed.

Harry didn't think he would. He couldn't be that person. He couldn't let Tom have his way. It was Tom who would come to regret this. Harry was sure of it. Tom had to, because he was the one in the wrong.

Tom stalked to the door, pausing for a second to throw Harry a look over his shoulder. Harry only shook his head and pointed the way with his wand.

x x x

Hogwarts was surprisingly gloomy without Tom. Oh, he was still there lurking in Harry's peripheral vision with one or two of his future Death Eaters, but they didn't even look at one another, let alone talk. Harry didn't want to know what they were planning. It couldn't be good. He only hoped Tom was plotting against him personally and not against someone else.

Harry was exceedingly lonely. He hadn't noticed at the time, but he had lost Etienne and his other room mates as friends. None of them approved of Tom so they'd learnt to make themselves scarce. Even now that Harry was alone they didn't make an effort, though Etienne sometimes sent Harry pitying stares.

Once again Tom wasn't going after Harry. He was living his life as though Harry were just going to come crawling back to him one of these days. That was no going to happen. The only thing keeping Harry warm these days was the thought of revenge, and he just about had it all figured out.

Step one of the plan was to get back into Tom's good graces. Harry hated himself for needed to get back together with Tom. Hated himself for having succumbed in the first place. Hated Tom and Voldemort for making him feel like they really were the same person: Voldemort.

Even so, Harry went to see Tom. It was surprisingly difficult to get to him now. He was surrounded by sixth and seventh year Slytherins who were very vocal in expressing their opinions on Harry. None of them liked him very much, all seeming to be glad that Tom had finally chucked him. Harry wondered how much was blind prejudice, how much was from their interactions with him, and how much was Tom's own feelings.

Finally, with a little trickery in the form of a rumour of one of the prettier Slytherins being caught without her robes, Harry managed to sneak past Tom's guards.

"I'm sorry," said Harry, wondering how much else he'd have to say that he didn't really feel.

"You're sorry?"

"Yes," said Harry. "I shouldn't have ended what we had over that."

"And?"

"I was being self-centred. I was telling you that you couldn't control everything when I wanted to control everything myself." That little was true, though Harry still thought it was more fair if he did have more control in their relationship. Certainly over his own virginity.

"Is that all?" Tom was still aloof. Harry wondered if he was buying any of this.

"I want to get back together with you... if you still want me." Harry didn't look at Tom, knowing it would give him away. And it was hard to say. Harry might not go through with it if he actually had to look at Tom.

"What happens if we do get back together?" Tom seemed to be turning the whole thing into a business arrangement.

"I still don't want to have sex with you." Even in a fake relationship Harry wasn't going to give that up. Besides, demanding more would be more in line with what Tom expected from Harry. "I'm not ready for that with anyone. When I am, you'll be on top of my list. And when we do," added Harry. "No potions."

"I see," said Tom.

"Well?" said Harry impatiently. "What do you think?"

"I have some conditions of my own."

What a laugh. "I suppose that's only fair," said Harry.

"You can't break up with me again. Not unless you fall in love with someone else."

Harry opened his mouth to protest that he couldn't demand that, but closed it. Harry would do what he wanted to do.

Tom went on with his next condition. "Stop using the future as an excuse to not do things. I understand that you don't want to tell me things, and you don't have to if you don't want to, but if you don't want to _do_ something like sleep with me, you'd better have a reason in the here and now."

Harry actually thought he could live with that. If he was getting together with Tom for real.

"And you have to trust me. I trust you," finished Tom.

There was no way Harry was actually agreeing with that. "I trust you," said Harry. "To be morally grey at best."

"Aren't we all? What about you? You claim to not approve of killing people, but you say you'll kill me if I go after you."

Harry's insides twisted as they always did when faced with questions of morality. There never seemed to be a right answer. "Okay," Harry said. "I agree to your conditions."

"And I yours," said Tom, leaning in for a kiss.

But Harry had had enough of this pretence. "That's it?"

Tom drew back and looked at him questioningly. "Is there something else you wanted?"

"Yes," said Harry. He didn't think Tom would try to get back together with him without at least pretending to apologise. "How about an apology?"

"Why?"

"Seriously? You think I just broke up with you earlier for no reason?"

"I explained myself," said Tom. "I had to take the potion you didn't believe me when I said I wasn't impotent."

"I didn't believe you? You didn't believe me when I said it wasn't about that."

"Then we were both mistaken."

"Yes," said Harry. "But I apologised. You haven't."

Tom looked away, then pulled Harry into a classroom where they would not be observed, locking and silencing the room. "I'm sorry," he said, now a completely different boy. "I should never have forced myself on you."

Harry fairly melted. Here was Tom showing him the face he never dared show anyone else. How could he resist that?

"It's hard," continued Tom. "To not believe that the one secret I tried to prevent anyone from knowing- the thing I'm more ashamed of than my Muggle heritage- would be used against me."

And suddenly Harry realised the weight of what he'd been carrying. Tom had sacrificed what seemed to be his biggest fear, his biggest insecurity, to Harry all in the hopes that Harry would be with him, might care for him. And once he'd let it out he'd been afraid that Harry would use it against him. So much so that he saw Harry wielding it as a weapon when he wasn't.

"I get it now," said Harry. "I'm sorry," he said again. "I should have tried to understand. To reassure you instead of just being offended."

Now that Harry understood, now that that was out of the way, he actually thought he could forgive Tom. He could set aside that moment of fear and helplessness for the completeness that he felt when he and Tom were getting along.

"I should have explained myself," said Tom. "Not been afraid of what I am."

"But I still meant everything I said before."

"I know," said Tom.

"I might forgive you," said Harry. "But it doesn't mean there won't be consequences."

"I understand," said Tom with a smirk. "I suppose I deserve everything you get past my defences."

Harry smiled. "Yeah."

"May I kiss you now?" Tom asked, lifting a hand to brush a strand of Harry's hair behind his ear. The light touch sent tingles down Harry's spine.

"Please do," said Harry. "Otherwise I might back out of this whole thing."

Tom kissed Harry possessively and Harry let him. "Oh, Evan," he all but sighed.

Harry's heart leapt and warm feelings coursed through him. And through it all Tom never once tried to go below the belt.

x x x

Step two in Harry's revenge plan was to practise the spells he needed to cast. Of course, he'd already started practising while he was still figuring out how to get past Tom's bodyguards (he no longer had that problem), but they were still a few days away from perfection. The spells themselves weren't difficult, but Harry wanted to cast them wordlessly, and as quickly as possible. There was no way Tom wouldn't retaliate otherwise.

The revenge plot wasn't so much about revenge, now, so much as giving Tom a little taste of the way he'd felt while Tom was under the influence of the potion. It was more of a bonding experience, really, because he had, truly, forgiven Tom. Now he was just ensuring that it wouldn't happen again.

So in the few more days that Harry needed, Harry was being polite toward Tom. Indeed, at times he was more than a little amorous, just to lull him into a false sense of security. And then, he was ready for step three: Implementation.

And Tom, really wasn't.

Harry fired off his spells without thinking. A certain dummy in the Room of Requirement had ensured that he wouldn't need to think. Before Tom could utter a word of surprise he was silenced, wandless, naked, and suspended from the ceiling of the empty classroom they were in. His dick, was also just that little bit smaller than Tom was used to. Nothing so much that anyone would suspect that a spell had been used on him, but an obvious insult to Tom's manhood at the same time.

Tom looked furious, which was why he'd been silenced. This was Tom's punishment. It didn't have to be Harry's, too. He really wasn't in the mood to hear whatever Tom had to say. Tom certainly hadn't paid any attention to what he'd said at the time.

"I told you there would be consequences," said Harry blithely, then dropped the pretence. "Now here's how it's going to work: I'm going to leave you out in the hallway without the silencing charm. You can either remain silent and wait for me to let your down in an hour or so, or you can scream all you like and suffer the indignity of having someone else come and save you."

Harry levitated Tom into the hallway and tried to position Tom in a shadowier corner where he wouldn't catch in someone's peripheral vision. Tom looked like he wanted to say a few things, but Harry still didn't want to hear them so he walked a long way down the corridor before he released him from that spell.

Harry sank to the ground just around the corner from where he'd left Tom. Like a criminal, he didn't want to get too far from the scene of his crime so that he could observe whoever observed it. Unlike other pranks he'd pulled, he didn't feel amused or exhilarated, only exhausted. He really just wanted it to all be over. With any luck Tom would take his punishment with grace and dignity, and not start another war. Harry thought he knew Tom better than that... but the whole falling out had been based on not actually knowing one another well.

Harry set an alarm to go off in an hour, and sat there to wait. He could have left his post and done something productive, but he didn't. He didn't know why he was punishing himself, but he couldn't bring himself to walk farther away. Anyway, Tom would never know. Tom could think that he'd run off and joined in a wrestling match or something. And if Tom did figure it out, well he could just say that it was to cover his arse. He couldn't actually afford to get into trouble over this, Dippet would probably expel him.

With all of that tension within him, the hour passed slowly. Only a few students ventured down the corridor where Tom was and though his heart raced, he didn't hear anything to indicate they had seen Tom. Of course, even if they did he probably wouldn't hear them and he couldn't chance looking. In fact, Harry was sure that he himself was drawing more attention than Tom, sitting in the hallway as he was.

Harry's wand vibrated and flashed, and the hour was finally up. He slowly got up and shuffled back to Tom, casting the counter-spells without even looking at him, and handing Tom's wand back.

"That's twice you've disarmed me," said Tom, looking at the wand rather than at Harry.

"Constant vigilance," said Harry.

"You aren't going to get one over on me again," said Tom.

"Hopefully I won't have to," said Harry, relief rushing through him as he realised Tom wasn't homicidally angry.

"So," said Tom. "Is that it? Can everything go back to the way it was?"

Harry nodded, looking up at Tom meaningfully, not sure what he wanted to say besides, "Yes."

They kissed.

It was only when Harry got back to the dorm that he realised his hair was Slytherin green and silver. Harry would let that slide, and he knew Tom would think he had the last word, but Harry was the one choosing to be with him. It wasn't any other way.

x x x

_May 1945  
_  
Harry's relationship with Tom could only improve from there. Harry made more of an effort to show that he wasn't physically repulsed by Tom and for his part, Tom tried to get to know Harry better. It was slow progress, but at the same time, Harry felt he was in deeper with Tom every day. They spent time talking about things that weren't world domination and the future. Tom shared what it was like growing up in an orphanage and Harry told of his life with the Dursleys (though he didn't call them that).

"I'll kill them," Tom said, holding Harry tightly to himself. "For what they did to you."

"Don't say things like that," said Harry. "Haven't you already killed enough members of my family?"

"Those people aren't your family. They treated you worse than anyone at the orphanage treated me."

"And you don't know how many times I wished I'd been sent to an orphanage instead," said Harry. "But they are still my family. I still love them."

"Love them? How could you love them?"

"I suppose you don't know," said Harry. He remembered Dumbledore's words, love was the power that Voldemort knew nothing of. Harry knew he was falling in love with Tom, but it seemed he would never be able to return Harry's feelings. How could Harry live with that? Harry didn't know how, but he knew he could do it. And maybe in the end he could teach Tom to love. "They weren't bad all the time. They were just afraid of magic. They didn't know how to deal with it because whenever they ignored it I'd accidentally throw it into their faces. And I didn't understand that they always thought I'd done it on purpose."

"They should have revered you," said Tom. "Feared you."

"They did fear me," said Harry. "That's why they did what they did."

"I'll have to teach you better," Tom said absently. "At the orphanage I ruled." There was a glint in his eye as he remembered some misdeed or other.

"I don't want to learn that," said Harry. "I don't want to intimidate people." People were intimidated enough just hearing what Harry was like. He didn't want that to be the lasting impression once they got to know him. He was getting to know Tom better... and was still just as intimidated by him.

"Even though you were bullied and intimidated your entire life?"

"Precisely because I was treated that way," said Harry as he wondered if Tom had any empathy at all. "I know what it felt like and I have no desire to make anyone else feel that way."

"I don't understand. Why don't you want revenge?"

"Because that gets you nowhere," said Harry. "It's a lot of wasted time and effort."

"There's a certain satisfaction in making people look into your eyes and know that they're helpless."

Harry shuddered and drew away from Tom slightly. "And then what? Do you move on? Obviously not because you're still keen on terrorising the entire world."

"They'd be better off," said Tom. "With me in charge, telling them what they need to do. They can't figure it out for themselves."

"Even the Muggles?"

Tom made a particularly terrifying face. "Muggles aren't people. Look at what they did to us. They don't deserve your love."

"Look at what you did to yourself," said Harry. "You could have chosen to forgive them for not understanding you. You could have risen above them, and you didn't. You let terrible feelings fester inside you and turn into hatred for everyone and everything. You let them control you."

"I suppose you've forgiven your Muggles," he said as though it was the most disgusting thing in the world.

"Yes," said Harry, not realising until that moment that it was true. He supposed absence really did make the heart grow fonder... even though he wouldn't usually be seeing them at this time of year. The distance of years, no matter how quickly Harry had traversed them, still seemed a long time. "I may not like them, respect them much, or condone what they did, but I understand them. It was hard for them to have their perfect existence interrupted by me. And they should have gotten over it and moved on but like you they didn't."

"They're nothing like me!" Tom's eyes flashed dangerously red. "I would never do those things to a wizard."

"Because you are one yourself," said Harry. "You'd certainly do it to a Muggle. And you did kill my parents. Maybe you didn't starve them and lock them in a cupboard but you terrorised them. They went into hiding because of you." Harry could hear his mother's terrified scream rebounding through his head. "And why? Because they didn't agree with what you were doing and chose to stop you."

"But they didn't stop me."

"Not yet," said Harry. "But I'm still around. I still intend to go back to the future to stop you."

"Even if it means killing me?"

"That depends," said Harry. "Would you kill me?" He wondered if he could go back to the future, have Voldemort recognise him and move on with him. Could he forgive Voldemort for everything he'd done if he stopped? Wasn't that what he was doing now? And... would he still forgive Voldemort if he continued on his destructive path?

"I asked you first," said Tom, not giving anything away.

If Harry died without putting up a fight... he couldn't let the rest of the world down like that. He'd been saying it all along. Tom would take it as a sign of treachery. He would kill Harry, the way he'd killed his parents and everyone else who stood in his way. Not everyone who opposed him had tried to kill him, but still Voldemort had felled them where they stood. Harry would be returning to a future with Voldemort. Even if Harry didn't try to kill him his direct opposition would put him in the line of fire. Either way, Tom would try to kill Harry. So he looked at Tom defiantly. "I'd stop you. Even if it would mean killing you."

Tom drew back and Harry didn't know if there was any way to save their relationship now. But then Tom spoke, "You see. We aren't so different. I couldn't respect you if you wouldn't."

Bizarrely, a confession of intent to kill seemed to have brought them closer. But that's what you got for being involved with a Dark Lord. Every day respect was won through battles. Harry didn't exactly like it, but at the same time he didn't want to stop being with Tom here. It was his decision and he was sticking by it.

x X X x

_May 1997  
_  
Every day there was another attack. Another village destroyed. Another blank spot on the map. The students of Hogwarts checked the papers every day for the names of the dead. Lots of Muggles were dead. You had to contact a special Ministry service if you wanted to find out who was among the deceased. Hermione worried for her parents. They sent worried missives to their daughter and got increasingly untruthful replies in return. There was nothing Ron could do to make her feel better about their safety. She was working on plans to protect them, but each one was crazier than the last.

The Muggle Prime Minister was making demands. He wanted it all to stop but there was nothing anyone could do. Globally, the Muggles classed it as isolated attacks of terrorism, but no one knew the group's goals. Still it was a British conflict, other countries reluctant to step in though they expressed their deepest sympathies and offered money and aid as though it were a natural disaster. They had probably been advised by their Ministries of Magic to stay out of it. After all, no magical governments were getting involved.

If Voldemort won (which was looking more likely by each day Harry was missing), Hermione wondered what the other governments would do. Shake his hand and tell him they were looking forward to working with him as though it were any other peaceful government handover?

In the papers too were the continued questions about Harry's whereabouts. The Ministry was trying to make Dumbledore hand him over and couldn't find the right laws to force him to do it. Harry was still technically receiving a magical education that he had signed up for willingly. Voldemort seemed convinced that Harry was gone for good and Ron wondered if that's what Snape had told him. Ron wondered if Snape even knew that Harry and Voldemort were involved. He probably didn't. Ron didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad one.

With all of that, Quidditch was a relief in Ron's schedule. There were a few grumblings amongst the team about Katie not being in charge, but they seemed mostly to be said because they were expected. With Katie back and Dean gone there was harmony in their team once again. And everyone was used to Ron's leadership and the way he ran practices. It could not be denied that Katie was a better Chaser than Dean was. Ron had a much harder time stopping any of her shots. Even lying in a hospital bed for months didn't slow her down.

It was almost ridiculous how easily they won their match against Ravenclaw. Fyle almost hadn't even had to catch the Snitch. He did, though, determined to make up for missing it in their last match. More than one Gryffindor had complained to him that Harry would never have missed it and he had needed to prove himself. They had won by 300 points in the end.

The win did a lot to boost Ron's mood (which seemed exponentially bad the longer Harry was away). He had captained Gryffindor to victory in the Quidditch Cup. Though most of his siblings had played on the team, only he had made them win. He was finally achieving everything he'd spent his childhood hoping for and was almost looking forward to next year. And yet, it was hollow. If Ron could go back in time (purposely, not accidentally) he would tell his younger self to stop being such a selfish brat and tell him that Harry was the best friend he could ever have and to relish every moment with him.

x x x

With the school's increased security, there were still Order members patrolling the grounds on a volunteer basis. So when Ron stopped his eldest brother after class one day he figured now would be a good time to get some news that not everyone in the school had. Beside him, Hermione and Neville silently agreed.

"Bill!" he called, making his way to where Bill was guarding the front entrance.

Bill didn't look like he wanted to be cornered. That made Hermione suspicious that there actually was something to be found out. "You're meant to stay inside the castle," Bill said to them.

"We are inside the castle," pointed out Neville. Bill was outside and for the moment the door remained open.

"Right," said Bill. "Now let me close the door." He was physically going to shut them out.

"Hang on a second," said Ron in that way that only a younger sibling can. "I only want to know how mum and dad are." He knew that the key to getting what you wanted was to start small.

"They're fine," said Bill. "Why wouldn't they be?"

Instead of pressing, Ron changed the subject to lull his brother into a false sense of security. "Did you hear about the Quidditch Cup?"

"Uh, yes," said Bill. "Congratulations. Ginny mentioned something in her last letter."

"How's Fleur?" said Ron.

"Great," said Bill. "Everything's great." Everything did not sound great.

"And Charlie? Fred and George?"

"All of them are well."

"Percy?"

"As far as I know he's fine too," said Bill. "He hasn't decided to come home yet."

"Do you think he will?" That was something Ron honestly wanted to know. It sounded like Bill fully expected Percy to come back to them, even though at Christmas he'd looked less than willing.

"Eventually," said Bill. "Is there something wrong? Do you suspect something's happened?"

"No, but that's why I'm asking you, isn't it?"

"We don't want to worry you. You've just got to think about finishing your exams, alright? Tell Ginny mum'll throw a fit if she gets fewer OWLs than you did."

Ron made a face but wouldn't be put off as Bill obviously expected him to be. "It's not alright! When you say things like that it makes us think something really is happening. What is it? You're going to organise a counter-attack, aren't you?"

"Keep your voice down," said Bill, looking around to see if anyone could be eavesdropping on their conversation. "Look, Ron, everyone's fine, okay? The whole family. Fleur. Lupin. Tonks. Kingsley. Even Mundungus. _Everyone_ is fine. And the Ministry is being handled."

"The Ministry?" said Ron. He hadn't said anything about the Ministry.

"Covering everything, you know. You know what else is fine? Gringotts. Still the safest place in the world to keep anything. Full of goblins. They can weather anything."

"And where do they think you are now?" asked Ron.

"On holiday."

"Not at the Ministry?"

"Where would you get that idea?"

"From you," said Ron.

"Oh go on back to the dorm," said Bill, obviously thinking he'd really said too much. "I've got to shut the door. You'll give everyone in the castle a chill." They wouldn't; it was quite a warm spring day. He pushed them out of the way and shut the door with his wand.

Ron shared a look with Hermione and Neville. They walked away from the door before they started talking. "He's definitely hiding something," said Ron.

"Something about the Ministry," said Hermione.

"D'you think they _are_ planning something?" wondered Neville.

"I don't know," said Hermione. "It sounded more like the Ministry was causing them trouble."

The last time Ron had tangled with the Ministry had been over Christmas... when Slughorn had come looking for Harry. Had he gone to the Muggles the way he'd suspected they would?

"Maybe it's your brother Percy," suggested Neville.

"It would be just like him to cause trouble," said Ron. But he didn't think that was it.

"It doesn't seem likely," said Hermione. "When Ron asked Bill said he was fine the same way he said everyone else was."

They made their way up to the Gryffindor common room and found Ginny. "You lot look serious," she said.

Hermione cast her eye over the eavesdropping ears in the common room. "Come on," she said. "Let's go find Luna."

Ginny shrugged and they all went back out the portrait hole to the annoyance of the Fat Lady.

"So?" Ginny asked once they were all in the hallway.

"We'll tell you once we've found Luna," said Hermione.

Finding Luna was easier said than done. They couldn't find the Ravenclaw common room because they'd never been there before. Luna usually just seemed to find them when they were thinking about her. Eventually they found a helpful Ravenclaw who fetched Luna for them.

"Let's go to the Room," said Hermione when Ginny opened her mouth to ask again. "For privacy."

There was a girl in the seventh floor corridor who loudly dropped some scales that she was holding. They walked past her, but then another little girl appeared.

"Do you think there's someone in the room?" Ron asked.

"Maybe," said Hermione. "Let's just find an empty classroom." Hogwarts was full of empty rooms, as though the founders had thought there would be hundreds more students than there were.

Once safely spelled into a room, Hermione explained to Ginny and Luna Bill's hint about the Ministry.

"It must be about Harry," said Ginny.

"Or a nargle's infected your brother," said Luna.

Hermione ignored Luna in favour of Ginny. "What about Harry?"

"It's what Ron said over Christmas. They've probably gone to see his Muggles."

"I hope not," said Ron, his blood running cold.

"You might be right," said Hermione. "Just about everything does lead back to Harry."

Ron was indignant. "Harry's our friend. We know his Muggle family better than anyone. They should be talking to us. We can help."

"I want to know as badly as you do," said Ginny. "But maybe there's a good reason why they aren't telling us."

"To protect us you mean? From information?" said Ron. He rolled his eyes.

"Maybe it really is dangerous," said Ginny.

"But," said Ron. "If we really knew it was dangerous we'd stay away."

"Would we?" said Hermione. "We do often end up right at the source."

"Not as often as Harry does," said Ron.

"Because I'm sure you want to be stuck in the past," said Hermione.

"The longer this goes on," said Ron, not wanting to think about that. "The more I think we can't trust anyone. My own brother wouldn't tell us anything."

"But we can trust Bill," said Ginny.

"Once we get rid of the nargle," said Luna.

"We can trust him to love us and to try to protect us," said Ron. "But not to always be right. Not to be as open minded as we are."

"We're still on the same side," said Neville.

"It's not about sides anymore," said Ron. "It's about Harry. We need to make sure that when he comes back it's to a place he wants to live in. The way it stands now there's no way Voldemort isn't going to win the war."

"That's a bit pessimistic," said Ginny. "They could hold him off."

"For a little while," said Ron. "And then he'll find more recruits. The Order won't even take us, they're not exactly picking up numbers."

"Well," said Hermione. "While Dumbledore's alive Voldemort isn't going to attack Hogwarts. And while Dumbledore's alive he's going to keep looking for a way to destroy Voldemort. We don't have to worry about that."

"Maybe we don't have to worry about Voldemort's death," said Ron. "But we have to worry about Dumbledore and whether he's just using us to get to Voldemort. And we have to worry about whether or not Harry's got something planned so that we don't have to kill him. Can you imagine what it would be like if Harry comes back and finds Voldemort dead?"

They could imagine it. But did they really mean to not take an opportunity to kill Voldemort if it came to them before Harry came back?

"We need to take a stand for ourselves," said Ron. "Let's not let the war take away who we are."

Neville nodded emphatically.

"So how do we do it?" asked Ginny.

"The teachers," said Hermione.

"The don't know everything," said Ron. How did that faith in the teachers get so ingrained into Hermione?

"They know more than we do," said Hermione. "Half of them are Order members. _Accessible_ ones. Let's follow them around and see if we can catch them talking."

"Spying?" Ginny was unimpressed.

"We need to know what they know and we can't trust them to tell us."

"What exactly do we want to know about?" asked Neville.

"Anything about Harry. What the Ministry is doing to find him. What Voldemort is," Hermione said.

"Whether Voldemort thinks Harry's alive or dead," added Ron. "How much Snape has told him."

"Okay," said Ginny. "I'm in."

"Me too," said Luna, always quick to jump into a group activity.

"And me," said Neville. "As long as I don't have to spy on Snape."

"I thought you didn't mind him anymore," said Ron.

"If I'm following the rules," said Neville. "Could you imagine if we got caught spying on him?"

"Whoever's tailing Snape can use Harry's invisibility cloak," said Hermione. That and the rest of his things, minus the Firebolt, were still in Harry's trunk by his bed. "He'd probably approve of putting it to this use."

"Yeah," said Ron with a grin.

They worked out a tailing and reporting schedule, then left for dinner. There was no time for resting anymore. They were in this war.

x X X x

A/N: I have no idea what anyone will think of this.


	15. Goodbyes

**Time and Again**

**Author's Note: **So Harry's leaving the past soon. Any last requests? Sorry this is late, but it is hopefully climactic. And probably rife with errors since I haven't reread it in all the weeks that I've been typing it up.

**Chapter 14 - Goodbyes**

_June 1945_

Harry was on his way to meet Tom. He was intentionally early, hoping to catch up on some Charms homework before Tom arrived at their usual spot. It seemed Tom had a similar idea, because as Harry rounded the corner he saw that Tom was already there with his future Death Eaters. Harry slowed down, not getting close enough to hear anything. From here he could see them and they couldn't see him. He didn't really want to interrupt the meeting, but he also didn't want to pretend it wasn't happening. Tom was up to something.

Harry watched as Tom lorded over them. It reminded Harry of the way Malfoy commanded the attention of the other Slytherins in their year. But Tom had greater control over this group. His followers would never dare to question him the way Pansy Parkinson or Blaise Zabini did Malfoy. Tom would smirk and the other boys would laugh. Any other group of students would probably look innocent enough, but Harry could see the undercurrents of darkness. They were revelling in someone else's misfortune, plotting to create more.

"Well what do we have here?" Harry whirled around, cursing himself for not paying more attention to his surroundings. Of course Tom would have a sentry. He couldn't just set a silencing spell and leave it at that; he'd want to know who was trying to eavesdrop. This particular one was huge. Harry recognised him from his Potions class. It was Bole.

Harry raised himself to his full height, which wasn't quite enough considering the other boy was twice as thick. "None of your business," Harry said, knowing no excuse would cut it.

"I wonder what Tom's going to say when I tell him you've been spying on him." Harry noted that he called him Tom, and not Riddle or Lord Voldemort.

"Nothing much, I suspect," said Harry. Tom knew he was morally opposed to just about everything he did. He'd probably find it amusing. In fact, Tom may even be expecting Harry to show up. He hadn't exactly picked an unobtrusive place, though oftentimes these things were better done out in the open.

"We'll see about that," said Bole. He grabbed Harry by the arm and dragged him into the courtyard where all the boys could see.

Tom spotted them first as they others were fixated upon him. A displeased expression crossed his face and he lifted his wand, cancelling his silencing spell. He then pointed it at Bole. "Get your hands off him immediately."

Bole complied and Harry rubbed his arm. He'd probably have bruises. While this was happening, the other boys formed a protective ring around Riddle, also raising their wands.

"What are you doing here Evan?" asked Tom, sounding a little put upon.

"What do you reckon?" Harry crossed his arms defensively. He didn't reach for his wand. He wasn't supposed to have one and the other boys might see it as a threat and cast pre-emptively. "If you didn't want me to stumble upon your meeting you should have picked a different spot."

Tom lowered his wand, causing the other boys to do the same. Tom took a step closer to Harry. "You're right," he said. "Come here." Tom gestured toward him with his hand.

Harry didn't like mindlessly obeying, but he really didn't want to have it out with Tom right here. Harry had a lot of things he wanted to say to Tom once they were alone.

Tom slipped his wand arm across Harry's shoulders. "Let's sit down again boys," he said as though wands hadn't just been out a moment ago. "You too, Bole."

"But-" A blond protested.

Tom silenced him with a glare. Everyone sat down in basically the same formation as before, with Harry now sitting beside Tom, whose arm was still casually draped around Harry. "Now where were we?" said Tom rhetorically. "Ah yes. Summer plans."

Harry stiffened because he hadn't thought about what he would do over the summer. He'd never really thought he'd be there that long. But if he did have to stay in the past he didn't want to be cooped up in Hogwarts. He wanted to spend it with Tom. He wanted to reassert his independence, because being here had taken that from him. He could get a job.

Tom stroked Harry's arm gently and he relaxed. Harry didn't need to think about this right now. His whole relationship with Tom was 'take it as it comes' and he couldn't really stop now.

"Dolohov?" asked Tom, looking at a dark haired boy with glasses.

"I'll be reorganising our family's library," he said. "Our family's held onto some pretty useless books for generations. I thought I'd liberate them."

Riddle nodded and asked the next boy. "My father got me a job at the ministry," he said. "In the Department of International Magical Cooperation."

"I think you'll meet a lot of interesting people there," said Tom. "It will be good for you."

One by one each of the boys reported what they'd be doing over the summer, or farther into the future for the seventh years. Many of them would be engaged in academic pursuits or in occupations more politically inclined. One had joined a Quidditch league team which Tom seemed particularly excited about.

"I know what you're doing," Harry whispered to Tom in Parseltongue. He didn't want any of the other boys to overhear.

"Is that so?" hissed Tom, not bothering to lower his voice. The other boys seemed entranced.

"Yup," said Harry. "Putting your people in positions of power... and of course you seem to realise that knowledge is power, too."

"How astute," hissed Tom. "Have I ever told you how sexy it is to hear you hiss?"

Harry blushed. Like Harry, Tom could understand Parseltongue. He'd only hear English where others heard hisses.

"I think they're getting restless," Harry said, turning Riddle's attention to his followers.

"That's everybody," he said to them. "I'll see you next time." He didn't set a time and date and Harry wondered how Tom let them know when and where to meet. Was it determined weeks in advance or did he have some system like the galleons the DA used?

Most of the boys left after that, but Bole stopped to whisper in Tom's ear too loudly. Harry could still make out what he was saying. "Are you sure about him? He's a Gryffindor."

Tom glared and Harry was sure that his gaze burned. Bole flinched visibly. "I am more sure of him than I am of you. He doesn't question me."

Bole scowled at Harry and wandered off, rage simmering beneath his cool expression.

Once they were all gone, Harry switched back to English, leaning his head against Tom's shoulder. "I thought you said you'd stopped making plans."

"I can't just let them make their own plans," said Tom. "They'd be far more dangerous on their own."

Harry disagreed. He'd seen what Death Eaters did without Voldemort hovering over them. Very rarely did they actually get up the courage to attack anyone. The rest of the time they skulked in their homes and pretended to be productive members of society. "You can't admit you're never going to give up."

"You can't admit that you're stuck here forever."

Harry recoiled. "I'm not," he said firmly. "I'm going back eventually. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow, but eventually."

"Sure," said Tom. "When this time catches up with that one. I don't see you making any attempt to get out of here."

Tom was right. Harry hadn't been trying. He was too distracted by the older teen. "You're right," said Harry. "But I'll have nothing but time on my hands this summer. With any luck I'll be back in the future in time for my seventh year at Hogwarts."

Tom grasped Harry's shoulders tightly, though not hard enough to bruise. All the same, Harry was reminded that his elegant fingers could become elegant claws. "No," said Tom. "You won't."

"I will," said Harry, all but vowing as he prised Tom's fingers from his shoulders.

"You can't," said Tom. "What will I do without you?"

"The same thing you're doing now," said Harry. "Try to take over the world."

"And you're okay with that? You don't want to stay here and stop me?"

"I know it's hard for you to see the future, but it's my past. I've read about all of this in history books, and seen memories. I can't stop you here, but I can stop you there."

"Not if you don't go back." Tom didn't want to be stopped. In some way, the fact that he wanted to keep Harry here with him meant that he knew Harry would be a threat.

"That isn't an option, Tom. Even if I have to invent a spell myself."

"I don't want you to go," said Tom earnestly. He stared Harry right in the eyes, conveying as much honesty in his gaze as was possible.

It was as close to an 'I love you' as Harry ever thought he could get. Harry wished there was something he could say that meant as much without leaving himself vulnerable. Instead Harry let his actions speak. He straddled Tom, clinging to him tightly, then peppered kisses over his perfect face. "I'm here now," he said.

Tom kissed him possessively, determined to mark Harry as his all over. Harry allowed it. There were few things that he could give Tom. A little submission was one of them.

x x x

Harry got swept up in exam preparation like the rest of the Hogwarts population. He was exempt from taking the practical exams, but even so he found himself studying harder than ever. Whether or not he actually got a qualification from it didn't mater. Harry wanted to learn as much as he could and one way of forcing himself to learn was to take the exams.

Tom was likewise distracted, though he liked to pretend he knew everything and didn't have to study. Whenever they studied together, Tom was always looking at some rare tome that had nothing to do with any of his NEWTs subjects. But even spending that much time together, Harry felt like he never saw Tom. It was a far cry from the days immediately following his arrival in the past. Tom was everywhere back then and Harry had just wanted him to go away.

But soon enough exams were over and they were in that precious state between exams and results when there was nothing you could do but relax. Unless you were Harry. Because Harry had no idea what he was going to do over the summer. He had no idea where he was going to stay or whether he'd even be allowed out of the castle. And it was looking more and more likely that he wouldn't just be swept out of the past without some effort on his part. He'd still be here over the summer.

Tom, on the other hand, was feeling uncharacteristically carefree. He wasn't exactly pressuring Harry into sex but he kept sneaking into Harry's dorm, or taking Harry up to his. And they'd sit on the bed together and get really close before he'd eventually pull back, obviously hoping that one day Harry wouldn't stop and would just keep going.

They got close a few times. Shirts came off. Hands went down pants. Tom made Harry lose himself sometimes in the feelings. But there was never penetration. Harry never gave himself away completely. Even as he lay in Tom's arms in the aftermath of orgasm, he never once wanted to take it that one step farther. The one he couldn't step back from.

The thing that confused Harry the most was that Tom always seemed so satisfied with that. But if he was so satisfied, why had he tried? Why had he taken that potion? Why had he wanted more when Harry had flat out said no? Was it really just his insecurities? How could one guy so arrogant and so certain that he could take over the world be so insecure about some accident that had happened years ago that he claimed to have been able to overcome?

They were nowhere near ready for sex yet. Harry felt sort of vindicated. He wasn't the only one who wasn't really prepared for that commitment. Tom had his own issues to sort through.

x x x

On the last day of school, Harry was summoned to Dippet's office.

"I suppose you're wondering why you weren't called here earlier," said Dippet.

"Not really," said Harry. "I was hoping we wouldn't need to make plans."

"As was I," said Dippet. "Nonetheless you are still here and seem likely to remain over the summer. Your behaviour over the last few months has indicated to me that you are indeed who you say you are, and trustworthy enough for a wand. I apologise for not believing you, but one cannot be too careful in these times. The school has been infiltrated previously."

"I understand," said Harry. Not that they'd managed to catch the real heir of Slytherin. "Getting a wand is sort of permanent too. It means I've resigned myself to staying here."

Dippet handed Harry a pouch of coins. "There is a great wand shop in Diagon Alley. Perhaps you've heard of Ollivander's?"

Harry's face remained impassive. He wondered if he could buy a wand there at all. Would his own wand's past doppelganger come to him? Would it then be there for him to get on his first trip to Diagon Alley? In any case, he didn't want to risk it.

"In any case," said Dippet. "I suggest that you buy a new wand there." Dippet sat back in his chair. "Now, as to living arrangements over the summer, Mr Riddle may have informed you that we cannot have students stay here at Hogwarts. Professor Dumbledore has been kind enough to arrange for you to stay at the Hog's Head in the village. You are to earn your keep working for the bartender there."

Harry wondered if the place was cheerier at this point in the past and if the bartender was the same man. "Thank you," he said. He'd been fully expecting to be simply tossed out with the rest of the students. A job and a room was more than he had hoped for. He supposed he had Dumbledore to thank for that.

On the other hand, Harry knew that the fact that things had been arranged for him meant that he would probably be observed during his stay. The bartender would probably be reporting to him. He wouldn't put it past Dumbledore. There were times when he'd looked at Harry as though he was dangerous, though he'd made it clear that he didn't think he was working for Grindelwald. Though auburn-haired, Dumbledore looked no less knowing.

"Thank Professor Dumbledore," said Dippet.

"I will," said Harry. If he could find him. Anyway, when he went back to the future he could thank Dumbledore there, and find out if this situation really was just to spy on him. "So will I be allowed to return to Hogwarts in September?"

"Oh yes," said Dippet. "In fact I'll say that staying at the Hog's Head is conditional on your return." They would definitely be spying on him.

"If that's all?" said Dippet, the door behind Harry opening.

"Yes thank you," said Harry. He left.

Tom was waiting for him outside. "So?" he asked Harry.

"Don't tell me you weren't eavesdropping," said Harry.

Tom dropped the pretence. "I don't want you staying at the Hog's Head," said Tom. "Dumbledore's probably keeping an eye on you."

"Then I won't do anything suspicious," said Harry. "And neither will you."

"He's always watching me," said Tom.

"You're just upset that you haven't managed to pull one over on him. That he's right to keep an eye on you."

Tom didn't like being called out. Instead he kissed Harry until he'd forgotten what he was thinking. "I have to speak to Dippet too," he said.

"Fine," said Harry. "I'll meet you later."

x x x

With nothing else to do, Harry went to see if Professor Dumbledore was actually in his office. He'd mostly been avoiding the man, worried about how much of his behaviour now might affect Dumbledore's behaviour toward him in the future. Harry had also been afraid of confronting Dumbledore, thinking the man might know too much.

By some twist of fate, Dumbledore was in his office.

"Professor Dumbledore," said Harry as he entered.

"Come in my boy," said Dumbledore.

Harry sat down in front of his desk. Dumbledore appeared to be in the midst of packing his desk for the summer.

"I just wanted to thank you for getting me a summer job," said Harry.

"Not a problem," said Dumbledore. "Is there anything else you'd like to discuss while you're here?"

"There is one thing," said Harry. "I never really thought about it back in my time, but it's become more obvious here." Harry was thinking about Etienne and Mihail and everyone else who'd been displaced or worse, by the war.

"Obvious?" wondered Dumbledore.

"In the future," said Harry. "You do everything you can to take out the next Dark Lord. I don't see you doing that here with Grindelwald."

"That's not exactly a question, is it?"

"I was getting to it," said Harry.

"Then perhaps you should just ask," Dumbledore said staring at Harry in that way that made him want to tell him everything.

"What are you doing here?" asked Harry. "Because you certainly aren't teaching."

Dumbledore looked out into space, actually looking a little ashamed of himself.

Harry knew there had to be some reason. He knew that Dumbledore must be consolidating his power somehow. He couldn't just be cowering here, could he? While innocent people were dying when he could be stopping Grindelwald... even if he didn't know that he could do it, shouldn't he be trying. Wasn't that the sort of person that Dumbledore was? He wasn't the sort to go into something without a plan and a detailed analysis of every possible outcome... or was that only the Dumbledore in the future? The one that was fifty years wiser.

"Okay," said Harry when Dumbledore didn't respond. "I understand that you don't want to tell me but I need to know that you really can't take out Grindelwald. That you aren't letting him continue to terrorise everyone. That you can't stop him."

Dumbledore, of course, couldn't give Harry a straight answer straight away. "I suppose," said Dumbledore. "Being who you are you might better understand my reasoning."

"Who I am?" Harry wondered if the teacher was referring to his relationship with Tom.

"Your unique viewpoint," said Dumbledore with a twinkle in his eye.

"Oh," said Harry. Dumbledore was just referring to the future. Harry had spoken so freely with Tom that he'd started to forget that he wasn't the only one affected by any information given out. He wondered if he'd given anything away in even asking Dumbledore about this. Why hadn't he just waited until he got back to the future? Because he'd only thought to ask it here?

"Do you have any siblings?" Dumbledore asked, continuing on his tangent.

"No," said Harry. "I'm an orphan, actually. My parents died before I could have any siblings."

"Then this might be difficult for you to understand."

Harry was sure that his Dumbledore wouldn't have belittled him like this. "I've loved and lost," said Harry. "Maybe I don't have any siblings, and my parents died too soon, but I know what it's like to love someone. It doesn't make it less of an emotion just because we don't share blood."

"I'm sorry," said Dumbledore. "You're right. My feelings aren't unique."

Thinking that Dumbledore was still a little derailed, Harry said, "I do have a cousin my age. We grew up together." He never really thought of Dudley as a brother, though. Ron was much closer to that.

"I am the eldest of three," Dumbledore said, finally getting to the part about siblings. "I have a younger brother, Aberforth, and a sister, Ariana, who died too young not long after my mother passed away." Harry still didn't get the point. "Gellert was here when Aberforth and I witnessed her passing. As to whether I am magically powerful enough to attempt to stop him, I am unsure. What I do know is that I am not emotionally strong enough. I am in no state to do battle with him."

It wasn't anywhere near the answer that Harry had wanted, but he suspected it was all the answer he was going to get. When had Dumbledore ever revealed anything honest about himself to Harry?

"So it's not what everyone says?" said Harry.

"Rumours, as I'm sure you know, often hold little truth."

"And what's the truth in this one?"

"Gellert and I were close friends," said Dumbledore.

"Did you love him?" Harry asked, more for his own sake. Would Harry follow in Dumbledore's footsteps one day? Would he have to defeat Tom? Worse, would he have to kill him?

"Perhaps," said Dumbledore. "Or perhaps I was in love with what Gellert represented."

What he represented? What did that mean? Power? That didn't sound like Dumbledore to Harry. Was that why he might be having feelings for Tom?

"I hope," said Dumbledore, seeming distant. "That you never see a loved one die by your own hand."

Harry excused himself, letting Dumbledore's last comment settle upon him.

x x x

When Harry and Tom met again that evening, the Slytherin was in a foul mood. He hugged Harry to himself possessively. Harry kissed him gently to try to calm him before he went into full-blown Dark Lord mode.

"I'm going to miss you" said Tom, inhaling Harry's scent. "We won't be able to do this every day anymore if you go and live at the Hog's Head."

"I'm not going to live with you," said Harry. Wherever that happened to be. Harry couldn't help thinking it would be practise for when Harry went back home. But he didn't want to irritate Tom further so didn't mention it. "What happened?" he asked.

"Dippet," said Tom. "I heard that Merrythought's retiring so I thought what better way to spend more time with you than to stay at Hogwarts next year."

Harry has the thought that his wanting the Defence Against the Dark Arts post had little to do with Harry and more to do with Hogwarts. "And?"

"He hardly listened to me," said Tom. "I think he knew I was going to ask, which is odd because I didn't mention it to anyone." Tom hadn't mentioned what his summer plans were when his Death Eaters had been reporting theirs.

"Maybe he figured it out for himself," said Harry.

Tom scoffed, obviously having nothing but contempt for Dippet's observational skills. "I'll bet it was Dumbledore. He always has an eye on me."

"So what did Dippet say?"

"He told me I was too young to teach. I must know more about the Dark Arts than Merrythought does. What's age compared with knowledge?"

"She probably knows more about defence," said Harry. "Which is the actual subject you'd be teaching."

"You're supposed to be on my side," said Tom. "Why do you keep picking them over me?"

"I thought that would be obvious."

"Go on then."

"I don't agree with using dark magic. I don't agree with you wanting to become a Dark Lord. Everything you do is helping you achieve that goal, so whenever someone stops you from getting something you want, I'm all for it."

"You're wrong," said Tom. "Being with you isn't anything about becoming a Dark Lord."

That was comforting to Harry, that Tom no longer seemed to think their relationship was about knowledge of the future. "But it started out that way, didn't it?"

"No," said Tom. "Remember? Your arse in my cauldron."

Harry blushed as Tom gave the aforementioned body part a squeeze.

"And you hated me on first sight," said Tom. "No one had ever done that before. It always took a while before they realised there was something about me that they didn't like. You intrigued me."

"You see," said Harry. "If I went along with everything you said you wouldn't want me anymore. You need someone who challenges you."

"I need an equal," said Tom. "Are you saying that's you?"

Harry was reminded of the prophecy and how Dumbledore said that Voldemort chose him to fulfil it. "I'm saying that you say it's true."

Tom had no argument against that. Harry had yet to prove himself unworthy.

x x x

Harry said his goodbyes to the other sixth year boys the next morning. First Abe, up in their dorm. Then Mihail, who'd be spending the summer with an aunt of his mother's. And finally Etienne, down in the entrance hall before catching a carriage down to the station.

"Where did you say you were spending the summer?" asked Harry.

"At my cousin's house in Wales." Etienne said this with a stoic face, but Harry could tell he was wishing that he could just return to his hometown. Back to France with the rest of the family. Things would be different next year. The war would be over.

"If the war ends before school starts again you're not coming back to Hogwarts, are you?"

"No," said Etienne. "I'll attempt Channel apparition if I have to. I can't wait to go home."

"Me too," said Harry. Then he gave into the urge and hugged Etienne for the first time.

"What was that for?" Etienne asked, looking around wildly. He was probably afraid that Tom had seen them. While Tom had never outright attacked Etienne, it was obvious that when he felt jealous he took it out on Harry. Harry never minded, since he did bring it up with Harry and not with Etienne who had nothing to do with it.

"With any luck I'll never see you again," said Harry. He wasn't just referring to the end of the war. He was referring to his own return to the future. Why was it that good luck would mean having to leave behind someone who'd been a good friend to him for months?

"That's ridiculous," said Etienne. "We can always arrange future meetings."

"I know," said Harry, knowing that they wouldn't be able to after his return to the future.

"I'll write to you," said Etienne. "We'll do something this summer."

"Okay," said Harry. "I'll write, too."

Etienne nodded. "Goodbye Evan."

"Goodbye Etienne."

Harry's goodbye to Tom took rather longer than any other, despite having already made plans for the weekend. They shared a coach down to the station at Hogsmeade by themselves. Tom didn't fail to notice that Harry could see the Thestral pulling their carriage, and having a long conversation about that. They said goodbye at the station. Tom would be living in London when he wasn't visiting Harry and his loyal following.

Tom mentioned thinking about getting a job down in Knockturn Alley. It was a bit strange to think that the profession he'd been considering two days ago was Hogwarts Professor. It probably looked even stranger to those who didn't know Tom as well as Harry did. But it was an inappropriately appropriate choice for a wannabe Dark Lord. It was strange to think of Tom working like a normal eighteen-year-old, but less strange to think it would take place in the less law-abiding part of wizarding London.

They shared one of those clichéd romantic moments as they kissed before Tom had to get on the train. Harry watched him get on, then waited on the platform until the red engine was too far away to see. All alone he headed down to the Hog's Head thinking that this might be his most interesting summer yet.

x X X x

_June 1997_

Not much had turned up in their month of tailing the teachers. Even Ron was starting to think that their time might be better spent studying rather than spying. It didn't stop them from tailing Professor Snape, though. He and Hermione were following him under Harry's invisibility cloak. Luna and Neville were supposed to be following Professor McGonagall and Ginny was supposed to be tailing Dumbledore if she could find him, and Flitwick if she couldn't. So far none of them had managed to keep tabs on Dumbledore, and they wouldn't be surprised if he'd told the other teachers they were being watched.

Ron and Hermione looked around for Luna and Neville when they realised that Snape and McGonagall were speaking to one another.

"I really must speak to Albus about these security measures," said McGonagall. "Surely they could be improved upon."

"I'm afraid the Headmaster has left the school this evening," said Snape. That was the only interesting thing they'd heard all night, and the one thing they could have guessed was true.

"I do wish he'd see fit to inform the staff before he left. Will he be long this time?" asked McGonagall.

"I have no doubt," said Snape. "That he will be back before the night's end. He has taken Kingsley Shacklebolt with him."

"Where has he gone?"

"I haven't a clue," said Snape deliberately blasé.

"Well it certainly seems you know more than I do at this moment."

"I'm sorry, Minerva," Snape apologised. "I certainly wish I didn't know what I do. There are some things better left unknown." That sounded suspicious. They were right to tail Snape.

"You are right, Severus," said McGonagall. "Do try to stay safe."

"I will always endeavour to survive."

The professors parted and Hermione and Ron continued to follow Snape. It turned out to be a waste of time, as he returned to his office.

x x x

Hermione set her master galleon to call an immediate meeting. She and Ron then headed up to the Room of Requirement to meet Neville, Luna and Ginny.

Ginny met them there as soon as they arrived and it became obvious that there was someone in there.

"I have a bad feeling about this," said Ron.

"So do I," said Hermione.

"I'm tired of this," said Ginny. "Let's just wait and find out who comes out."

Neville and Luna came up then as they hid around the corner.

"Anything happen with McGonagall?" asked Ron.

"No," said Neville. "Not after we saw her talking to Snape. I guess you guys were there too. We couldn't see you."

"We didn't see you either," said Hermione.

"Well," said Ginny. "At least we know it's not because they know we're following."

And then they saw who came out of the Room of Requirement. First was Malfoy, and he was followed by several Death Eaters. The five looked at each other and wordlessly Ron slipped back under Harry's cloak. Hermione frowned.

"Go get Snape," hissed Ron, trying to keep his voice low. With Dumbledore out of the castle the only person who could stop them would be Snape. And he was the only one of the teachers who might have any idea that this was going to happen. "I'll follow them."

"I'm going with you," said Hermione. Her expression brooked no argument and she slid underneath the cloak with Ron.

"We don't all need to get Snape," said Ginny. "We have to stop them."

"You're right, only one person needs to get Snape. The other two should alert the Order and the Aurors and any other teachers you see."

Ginny had a put upon expression on her face. She obviously didn't want that job.

Ron stuck his head out from under the invisibility cloak. "Please Gin," he said. "This one time: don't argue."

"Alright fine," she hissed. Ginny, Neville and Luna took off in three different directions and Ron and Hermione followed Malfoy and the Death Eaters.

They ran into a few Order members on the way, including Bill and it was all Hermione and Ron could do to fire off stunners and disarming spells while keeping themselves invisible. Ginny crawled out of the woodwork and started fighting herself. Ron realised they'd lost track of Malfoy.

Then Snape entered the fray, just as Bill went down, tackled by one man. It was a turning point in the battle. The Death Eaters seemed to start fleeing and the Order members chased them down. Hermione noticed that Snape was headed in a different direction from the way most of the battle had headed. The last thing Ron saw was Ginny helping Bill sit up before he and Hermione went to follow Snape.

The hallways were deserted, and they sped up to catch up to Snape. Snape turned to look back in their direction. They'd probably made too much noise trying to catch up. Ron couldn't seem to catch his breath and was breathing heavily. "Accio Invisibility Cloak."

Nothing happened, which set the cogs in Hermione's mind turning.

Snape, though, did not continue on his way. His frown deepened. "I know you're there," he said. He didn't look like he was going to be moving any time soon and they couldn't figure out where Snape was going if he didn't go anywhere.

Unwillingly, Ron and Hermione slid the cloak off, exposing themselves to Snape's probing gaze.

"Why am I not surprised?" said Snape.

"What's going on Professor?" asked Hermione, ignoring the fact that they'd been hiding underneath an invisibility cloak.

"I don't have time to deal with you children," snapped Snape, already looking away from them, ready to take off.

Ron knew better than to protest that they were both seventeen and therefore of legal age and considered adults in the wizarding world. "Let us come with you then," said Ron.

Snape sneered. "Because you're so competent and wouldn't possibly get yourselves killed."

The sounds of fighting drew closer to them. Snape noticed and motioned to Hermione and Ron to put the cloak back on. They quickly squeezed under it as they saw McGonagall pursuing someone wearing Death Eater robes.

Snape ignored them and stalked off, then up a flight of stairs.

Ron and Hermione didn't need to discuss it before they followed him.

"Have you worked out where he's going yet?" asked Ron in a whisper. They'd almost lost Snape after that first staircase. He could take far longer steps than they could, bundled together by the cloak. Snape didn't even need to break into a run.

Hermione was about to reply in the negative when the a sickening green light came in through the nearest window. Together they raced to the window and looked up at the sky. There they saw the Dark Mark shining over the tallest tower. "I'm going to guess there," she said.

Ron felt the blood drain from his face. "You don't think Malfoy's done anything, do you?"

"Let's hurry," said Hermione.

They quickened their pace, only a few staircases away from their goal. And before they knew it they were bursting onto the scene. Draco Malfoy was pointing his wand at a rather pathetic looking Dumbledore and Snape was between the pair, seemingly unsure who to side with. A few Death Eaters were there, too, also pointing wands at Dumbledore. When had Dumbledore gotten here? Why did he look like that?

Ron had no such reservations. He quickly disarmed Malfoy with a hurried, "Expelliarmus!"

Malfoy turned to face Ron and Hermione who were still half-cloaked. Malfoy lifted a second wand, but even Ron's surprise didn't stop Ron from shouting the disarming spell a second time.

"What do you think you're doing?" he shouted at Malfoy. He couldn't believe he and Hermione hadn't suspected him. That they'd thought he was spending all that time in the Room of Requirement practising spells. Not practising getting Death Eaters into the school. Ron didn't know why he felt such betrayal. Had he really come to respect Malfoy that much? To trust him?

But Malfoy was obviously distressed at the way everything was turning out. It made Ron's fury die a little. Mostly he just saw Malfoy as a stupid idiot for going along with the Death Eaters. Ron had called his own morality into question, but he never would have thought it was a good idea to let Death Eaters into the school, regardless of whether Dumbledore was manipulating them and the circumstances.

"I-" Malfoy said before one of the Death Eaters grew bored with the proceedings and reacted by firing off a curse.

Hermione caught it and screamed as she went down. Her legs seemed to collapse beneath her as though suddenly disconnected from her body. It was the worst pain Hermione had ever felt and she passed out.

Fuelled by his anger, Ron shouted, "Stupefy!" and was stunned when not only the Death Eater he was targeting, but those either side of him suddenly collapsed. He looked down at his wand and realised it wasn't his, but rather the second one he'd taken from Malfoy. "Give it up Malfoy," Ron said. The only people left standing were he, Snape, Dumbledore and Malfoy.

Malfoy looked between the three of them, terrified. He glanced in the direction of the Forbidden Forest and ran straight at the stairs. With faster reflexes than Ron had thought he had, Snape grabbed Malfoy, stopping him from running away.

Ron looked at Dumbledore, not sure what to do next. Now that the Death Eater threat was eliminated, Dumbledore seemed to have lost all fight. He looked beyond tired, like a man on his death bed. Ron didn't want to consider what that meant.

Dumbledore nodded at Snape. "Do it, Severus." It came out as barely a groan. "Time is no longer on my side."

Snape was looking at Ron, not at Dumbledore. "Take Granger to the hospital wing." He snatched one of the wands from Ron's hand, still holding Malfoy by his collar.

"But-" protested Ron, looking at the quivering Dumbledore Snape wasn't even trying to hold up.

"Now!" snapped Snape, pointing his wand at Ron.

Ron nodded, using his own wand to cast the spell that would levitate Hermione's body. He was surprised when her body actually did what he commanded. Ron was so shell-shocked that he didn't think he'd have any control over his magic. He carefully steered Hermione toward the stairwell, not looking back.

"Please, Severus," pleaded Dumbledore weakly.

"One last chance," said Snape. Ron wondered if he was talking to Malfoy or to Dumbledore.

Ron thought he was dreaming when he heard Snape say "Avada Kedavra," quite clearly. But the flash of green that echoed in the stairwell convinced him that it must be reality. He turned up the stairwell to make sure that it was really Dumbledore who'd been murdered, and that Snape hadn't for some reason turned his wand against one of his students, Death Eater or not. But he heard one sharply inhaled breath and he knew that it had to be Malfoy. Ron didn't want to see it.

Ron couldn't bring himself to make a single noise even as tears began sliding down his cheeks. He walked away with only his unconscious girlfriend for company.

x x x

The hospital wing was packed- with visitors, not casualties- when Ron entered with Hermione's body. Ron's eyes immediately found Ginny by Bill's bedside, with Fred and George and their parents. Bill was looking in pretty bad shape, his face mauled. Madam Pomfrey was busy tending to Professor Flitwick.

Mrs Weasley spotted Ron first, and her sigh of relief at seeing him safe turned into a shriek of dismay as she saw Hermione's body. The cry drew everyone's attention first to Mrs Weasley, then to Hermione. The path was cleared to an empty bed and Ron set Hermione down gently, pressing a kiss against her forehead. His mother hugged him tightly, and he drew some comfort from her embrace.

"What happened?" asked Madam Pomfrey while she began casting diagnostic spells.

"I don't know," said Ron. "A Death Eater hit her with something I didn't recognise." He gulped, barely able to speak. "She fell over, then she passed out."

Madam Pomfrey seemed to be paying more attention to Hermione's legs than the rest of her. Ron tried to remember if that was where the spell had hit her, but he didn't recall seeing the spell. She then poured a pain-relieving potion down Hermione's throat and said, "We'd best let her rest for now."

That did nothing to calm Ron's fears. Did this mean that the damage was permanent? What was the damage at all? Would Hermione ever wake up?

Tonks entered the hospital wing with a serious look upon her face. "The Death Eaters have all left the building," she informed them. There was a collective sigh of relief in response.

"Why were they here?" asked Ginny, but Tonks ignored her and the following questions, instead stopping by Remus Lupin's shoulder and speaking to him quietly.

"What?" he could be heard asking her after a moment.

Professor McGonagall came into the room next, looking rather haggard. More than likely she'd discovered Dumbledore's body... but where was Snape?

"What about Snape?" Ron called from across the room. "Did he leave too?"

"I imagine so," said McGonagall. "To preserve his cover."

"So he's not here," said Ron. "And he didn't speak to you before he left?"

Tonks and McGonagall turned to look at Ron more closely and seemed to realise that Ron knew something. "Were you with Professor Dumbledore before the Death Eaters departed?"

"Yes," said Ron.

Everyone in the was looking at Ron, not that he'd been trying to be subtle, and he was wondering if maybe he should just blurt the rest of it out.

"Come with us Mr Weasley," said Professor McGonagall. She, Tonks, Lupin and Ron didn't do far, only to Madam Pomfrey's office. Ron was glad. From here he'd be able to see if Hermione woke up. "What exactly happened tonight?"

Ron recounted seeing Malfoy and the Death Eaters leaving the Room of Requirement, then following SNape up to the tallest tower after the Dark Mark went off. "I don't really know what was going when we got there," said Ron. "But I disarmed Malfoy and stunned some Death Eaters after one of them cursed Hermione. Then Snape grabbed Malfoy and told me to leave and when I did I heard him say the killing curse."

The three adults stood in shock for a moment.

"You're sure it was Severus? Sure it was the killing curse?" Lupin was quick to question him.

"Well it certainly wasn't Malfoy! And the green light was a dead give away." Ron paused as he realised what he'd said. "Pun not intended."

"Then he did it," said McGonagall with fury in her eyes. "He murdered Albus."

"I'm not sure it was murder," said Ron. If using an Unforgivable was truly unforgivable why did Ron want to give Snape the benefit of the doubt? But if Snape was really murdering Dumbledore why hadn't he just done it? Why had he waited for Ron to leave, but not long enough for him to really be gone. Snape hadn't wanted to do it and even if it really was murder, there had to be something else that made Snape do it when he didn't want to.

"What else could it be?"

"Dumbledore was begging him before he even turned his wand on him," said Ron. "Said there wasn't much time left. I think it was a mercy killing."

"Are you sure?" asked Professor McGonagall. "If we believe you, and let Professor Snape back and he betrays us again..."

Ron knew it would be his fault. But he trusted Snape. That's what all those hours in the Room of Requirement had taught them to do. He'd have trusted anyone in that room with his life... but that had included Malfoy and he'd obviously been the instigator in everything that happened tonight. "I trust him," said Ron. "And I haven't always thought much of him. More importantly Dumbledore trusted him."

"We all trusted him. Students are meant to trust their teachers."

"But I still trust him," Said Ron. "Even knowing that he killed Dumbledore."

"Okay," said Professor McGonagall. "If he returns we will allow him the opportunity to explain himself. In the meantime, no one will know who killed Albus." Ron already knew he'd be telling Hermione as soon as she woke up, and probably Ginny, Neville and Luna as soon as they were alone.

"What about the Aurors?" asked Ron. "Isn't it their job to figure it out?"

"I'm afraid," said Professor McGonagall. "That we will not be allowing those outside of the Order to look at the body. This wasn't the only building attacked tonight. The Ministry has fallen under Voldemort's power."

Dumbledore was dead. The Ministry was taken over... Voldemort was in charge now. He probably thought he'd won since Harry was presumed dead. What was going to happen now? What would happen to Hermione?

x X X x

A/N: That Harry/Dumbledore scene was crap- part of the reason why it took so long to get this story out. I considered scrapping it altogether but it was kind of time for Harry and Dumbledore to have a chat. And I had to rewrite the beginning of the Ron/Hermione bit so that took some time since rewriting actually meant plain ol' writing.


	16. Summer in Hogsmeade

**Time and Again**

**Author's Note: **So I think that by the end of this chapter everyone will realise why you've had to wait so long. And why I'm posting the next chapter tomorrow.

Thank you to everyone for reviewing! I'm sorry this took so long so thank you to everyone who is still here. It might take a while but this story is definitely going to end up on my finished list.

Especially thank you to everyone who hates the Ron and Hermione bits because I think it's amazing that you can hate half a story and still stick around to read the rest of it. I promise there will be less really soon. (P.S. if you're that person you might want to come back in two weeks and not the next time this story is updated. I think you can guess why.) Hopefully this chapter has enough Harry/Tom for you.

**Chapter 15 - Summer in Hogsmeade**

_June 1945_

The Hog's Head appeared to be the same den of ill repute that it was in Harry's time. It was just as dim, dingy and unwelcoming despite being fifty years newer. Like everywhere else in this time that Harry had visited, it was mostly the same with only a touch of difference. No matter what time it was, as long as you were in the wizarding world it was all the same: old-fashioned, if not actually old.

From his position one step across the threshold, Harry had a clear view of most of the place. A few tables in dark corners, a bar that had probably never been cleaned by magic, the bartender behind the counter... The few patrons did a good job of looking like they were only there for a drink. Nothing was out of place or unexpected.

Harry went up to the bartender, realising both that he was indeed the same one in the future, and that he didn't know the man's name in the same moment. He too was fifty years younger and looked rather a lot like Dumbledore, come to think of it. They had the same auburn hair and the knowing, twinkling blue eyes Harry hadn't thought could exist on anyone but Dumbledore's face. Harry supposed that while Dumbledore had amassed knowledge from books, the bartender learnt rather a lot in his profession and on the street.

"So you're the Hogwarts student who'll be staying here," he grumbled, sounding absolutely nothing like Dumbledore.

"Yes sir," said Harry. He stepped forward and extended his hand for a shake. "H-Evan James." He'd almost slipped. He hadn't done that in months. Harry supposed it was because he hadn't had to introduce himself to anyone in months.

"You can call me Ab," he said. "None of that 'sir' rubbish. I ain't been knighted."

Harry nodded.

"Right," said Ab. "Can't take my eyes off this lot-" At his words, everyone in the bar tried to look like they'd not been eavesdropping- "Or I'd show you your room. It's upstairs." He gestured to the stairs behind him. "Through the room, down the corridor, on the left. Door's open. Loo's beside it. Come down when you're settled and you'll have the grand tour."

"Thank you," said Harry. Ab was really being quite accommodating. Harry wondered if in addition to the work he was doing he was being paid. Harry hadn't expected him to care about being settled in. He had expected to be put to work right away.

Harry's room upstairs was unfortunately exactly what Harry was expecting. A small and shabby, though clean, bed. A small side table with a lantern on it. It was attached to a tiny bathroom with no tub. It was just a shower close enough to the toilet you could piss from it, and a tiny sink tucked behind the door. There was nowhere to unpack to, so Harry left his trunk beside the bathroom door, the only place where he could get into it and not trip over it. Harry then washed his face and hands and considered himself settled.

Downstairs Ab was serving a couple of witches who were more hag than human. He turned and saw Harry immediately, but still seemed to be keeping an eye on the witches at the same time. "Righto, Evan. Know your way around a kitchen?"

Harry nodded dimly, then wondered if that was the right answer. He was familiar with cooking in the Dursleys' kitchen, watching Mrs Weasley in the Burrow's kitchen, and with eating in the Hogwarts one, but he'd never actually cooked with magic himself in something that could be loosely classed as a restaurant.

"Good," said Ab. He led Harry into the dingy kitchen. It was like something out of the nineteenth century, though thankfully he didn't have to cook over an open fire. Ab quickly explained that the shelves had preserving charms over them. There was what Harry would have called a wood burning stove if he was in the muggle world, with a cauldron bubbling away atop it. That was about the extent of the equipment.

"I've never cooked with magic before," he felt he needed to explain. "I grew up mostly muggle, you see."

"Not seventeen, then?" he said to Harry.

"I haven't even been born yet," he muttered to himself.

"Albus didn't mention you were barmy," said Ab.

"Sorry," said Harry, looking up. "Let's just say I'll be seventeen by August." He didn't want to give away his actual birthdate.

"It's for the best," said Ab. "I've got some particular clientele. Won't trust you to serve them drinks right off the Beater's bat." With any luck Harry would be gone by then. It was one of his summer resolutions... his only one, really: Work out how to get home.

"What about the cooking?"

"I'll teach you the spells. You're not thick as well as barmy, are you?"

"But I'm under-age," said Harry. Was this a law that hadn't yet come into effect?

"You really did grow up with Muggles, didn't you?" Ab explained that since they were in Hogsmeade, a wizarding town, in a wizarding establishment, there was no way for the Ministry to know who was casting anything.

Harry was a little overwhelmed by the possibility of magic. Then he remembered that he wasn't supposed to have a wand. "I haven't got a wand on me. I misplaced the last one."

"Lost your wand?" Ab was incredulous. "What have they sent me? Barmy, thick and absent-minded." He threw his hands up. "Go on then," he said. "Get yourself a new one. You've got gold, right? Because I am not forking out for a wand. No, you can go right back to Hogwarts."

"I've got some," said Harry. He practically ran from the room and up the stairs where he'd seen a fireplace and a bowl of floo powder. This would be his first real adventure out in this wizarding world.

x x x

The Leaky Cauldron was almost the same, though the barman was different. The same sequence of bricks allowed him into the alley. Wizards really didn't seem to like change. Most of Diagon Alley was the same. There were few differences. Some store fronts were shinier. Florean Fortescue's was missing and in its place was a rather decrepit looking sweet shop. Harry wouldn't be surprised if you reached in for a handful of gobstoppers and instead got a handful of spider eggs.

Harry wondered whether he out to go into Ollivander's to preserve his cover, but didn't think it was a good idea. He didn't want Ollivander to know anything was strange when Harry Potter came looking for his first wand fifty years from now. He especially didn't want to chance walking away with the wand he was already carrying and then trying to get the same one in 1991. That was certainly something Harry was having trouble wrapping his head around. Anything he couldn't understand the consequences of, he didn't want to do. It would be twisting the fabric of time.

Instead of buying a wand, Harry peered into shop windows and studied the fashions of the wizarding folk, all the while making sure he didn't draw attention to himself. He dared Professor Binns to set him an essay on the wizarding world at the end of the war against Grindelwald. Harry would pass with flying colours.

Harry considered going to see Tom. He would be able to understand why Harry needed to kill a little time and not actually buy a wand. But they'd left each other only an hour ago. Harry didn't want to seem needy. Besides, Harry didn't even know where Tom was staying. Sending an owl and waiting for a reply would probably take more time than it was worth.

So a good hour of traversing the alley later, Harry decided he'd wasted enough time in the alley. He went back to the Hog's Head.

x x x

Ab started Harry on the prep work as soon as he came back from Diagon Alley. He peeled potatoes and sliced carrots with the spell Ab taught him. It was just like learning to do the same activities all over again. Harry would peel too much skin off and accidentally slice carrots in two. He almost thought it would be more efficient the muggle way. He already knew how to do that. But Harry knew that once he had the spells down he'd be faster than he was with a knife. He wouldn't even have to watch the vegetables. He'd be able to start the spell and concentrate on something else. Right now he could barely listen to Ab's complaints and not slice off his fingers.

Harry learnt that basically the only food the Hog's Head actually served was stew. Ab informed him that it was made from a secret ever-changing recipe that was different daily depending on the specials he could get from the market. Apparently he had a guy who would do him a deal. Harry got the feeling that this guy wasn't exactly on the up and up, and he didn't think the cauldron was emptied at the end of each day. For breakfast there was porridge, and there was only breakfast when there was someone staying in the rooms upstairs. It didn't exactly get Harry excited about eating there.

Ab was surprisingly talkative. Someone so gregarious shouldn't have been a bartender in a place like the Hog's Head where no one actually wanted to speak to the bartender. It made Harry wonder how he became the proprietor, but not enough to actually ask Ab about his life. Ab was the sort of man who had an opinion on everything but for all his talking, the bar was unnaturally silent. Harry hadn't been expecting to make a friend here but he was quickly thinking that he could in Ab. If the man ever decided to like him, that was.

There weren't many customers, and few of them sat by themselves. Those huddled in pairs and small groups cast privacy wards to keep eavesdroppers out. If the average customer in a normal pub came in the most they'd hear would be one of Ab's rants about goat feed. Ab had a lot to say about the Ministry's lack of regulation in that particular industry. He had a lot to say about the Ministry in general, too. Harry found himself agreeing to everything the man said... even about the goat feed when Ab explained about the nutritional requirements and price gouging.

By evening, Harry was magically exhausted... and that was physically exhausting. He didn't think he'd ever cast that many spells before in his life. Not on practical exam days, or in fights for his life. Maybe not even in a single week. It didn't help that he'd barely cast a spell at all since September. It wasn't just chopping that Harry had to do. It was the stirring and doling out bowls and keeping the stove's heat even and cleaning up after himself. He guessed there would be less cleaning up once he worked out how to do the rest of the spells better, though. For the first time he was sort of understanding how it was that pure-blood wizards could be just as exhausted when doing everyday tasks as muggles were.

After most of the patrons had eaten, Harry found himself doing the cleaning by hand (albeit with a conjured cleaning cloth). He wasn't used to magic, but he was certainly used to doing manual labour when he thought he was beyond tired. Ab watched him, bemused. It would have been obvious that the man was a pure-blood, even if they weren't in a wizarding part of the world.

Once the last customer's place was cleared and the door was locked, Ab looked at Harry and nodded in an approving way. "You did good today, Evan. For a daft, barmy little fool."

Harry took it as a compliment.

"You're used to work, aren't you?" Ab said, looking at Harry with a calculating eye. Harry wondered how he added up in the man's eyes. "I wasn't expecting that when I agreed to take you."

Harry shrugged. He wasn't about to discuss the Dursleys with someone from the past. "I do what I do."

"Right," said Ab. "Well, whatever you do is your business now. But I want you back here and awake by nine o'clock tomorrow morning."

It was long past midnight now and Harry was glad they didn't have to serve breakfast. Ab mustn't get any sleep on those days. Perhaps he had help, though he hadn't mentioned anyone. Harry supposed he would find out eventually, one way or the other.

"Good night," he said, then went upstairs to bed, barely taking the time to brush his teeth and change before falling asleep.

x x x

The next day was Saturday and in the afternoon Tom came by to collect Harry for a date. Ab wouldn't need Harry until what constituted the dinner rush at the pub.

"So where are we going?" asked Harry, excited by the prospect of an afternoon spent with Tom away from the constant interruptions on Hogwarts grounds. They were able to spend a lot of time together at school but the change of scenery was good.

Vaguely Harry thought that he should be worried about what Tom would do with him away from the school and the supervision provided by Dumbledore and Dippet. He wasn't. He trusted Tom with his personal safety, as crazy as he was sure that made him. Here, tucked under Tom's arm Harry couldn't remember feeling safer and better protected. Together they walked down Hogsmeade's main street, headed away from the centre of town.

"What makes you think I made plans?" asked Tom. "Didn't you?"

The idea hadn't crossed Harry's mind. But as long as he was with Tom he didn't care where they went or what they did (within the confines of his usual moral objections). "This is your world," said Harry. "I'm only visiting."

"My world," smirked Tom. "I like the sound of that."

Harry rolled his eyes. They were approaching the caves that Sirius had hidden in during his time on the run. Harry didn't recall anything magical or interesting about them and he wondered why they were there. "Some dingy caves. Not quite what I was expecting. But then, you are a Dark Lord."

"We're apparating," explained Tom once there was no way anyone outside could see them.

"And we had to do it from here?" asked Harry, for the moment ignoring the fact that he hadn't learnt to apparate yet.

"Privacy," said tom. "You're the one who didn't invite me in earlier." Harry had met Tom at the door, not giving him a chance to meet Ab.

"And have Ab interrogating you? No thank you."

Tom grinned. "Jealous he'll fall for my charms?"

Now there was a ridiculous thought. Ab didn't seem to be the sort of man who was taken by charm of any form. Harry wasn't even sure if he could cast one of Flitwick's on the man. Ab's no nonsense attitude made Harry think he'd see Tom for who he was: a dark lord in training. After all he'd seen a number of suspicious folk in his establishment and would see many more in the future.

Harry laughed. Tom smiled the way he always did when Harry was amused.

"Close your eyes," he said. "I want it to be a surprise."

Harry was a little nervous. "Are you going to side-along apparate me?"

"Yes," said Tom with confidence.

"Have you ever done it before?" asked Harry.

"No, but I think I'll manage."

"You think?" Tom wasn't doing anything to make Harry feel better about all of this. "You don't know. It's my body parts we'll end up losing!"

"Are you really questioning my magical ability?"

Harry blushed. "Of course theoretically you can do it," said Harry. "It doesn't mean you'll succeed on your first try."

"Trust me," said Tom. "I am very aware of where your body parts are at all times."

Harry blushed. But how could he argue with that? He was a reckless Gryffindor with a heart of gold. He had to trust Tom now. "Okay," he said. Actually, he was glad that Tom hadn't just apparated off with him to prove a point. He'd actually been waiting for Harry to be okay with this.

Tom drew Harry into a tight hug, completely enfolding the younger teen in his embrace. They disapparated.

x x x

Once Harry and Tom re-materialised, the first thing Harry noticed was that it felt completely different from apparating with Dumbledore. There was no squeezing sensation. It was more like a gentle giant's hand picking him up and setting him down again. Harry wondered if Tom used the traditional apparition spell or if he'd found or invented a different one and if that was why they'd had to leave Hogsmeade first.

The second thing Harry noticed was that he hadn't lost any body parts in the process. Every single strand of his hair seemed to be in place.

The next thing Harry noticed was that they were outside and seemed to have time travelled. He could see the edges of a sunset just beginning to creep over the horizon.

The fourth thing Harry noticed was the horizon itself. The skyline was completely uninterrupted by a single house or other man made structure. Having grown up in and never having left Britain, he'd never seen such a sight before. Even the view of the Forbidden Forest from Hogwarts Castle was disturbed by the school's outer wall. Here there were only trees and grass and a lake upon which a few unfamiliar birds swam like ducks. It was beauty beyond words.

Tom pulled Harry by the hand to where a wrought iron table and chairs sat, out of sight of Harry's first glance. When he sat it became obvious that the chair had a cushioning charm placed upon it. There was food that probably had a preservation charm placed on it, and together they sat, drinking some sort of fruity alcoholic concoction and eating fresh berries dipped in melted chocolate and whipped cream.

"Where are we?" Harry asked once the show was over and lit candles appeared hovering above them, providing a light more romantic than any lumos charm. To the east Harry could make out the edge of a large white building between the trees.

"France," said Tom. "In the Franche-Comté region."

Harry didn't think he wanted to know exactly whose land he was on, which Death Eater called this place their summer home. "I can't believe you apparated us both over the Channel." If he'd known, he was pretty sure he wouldn't have agreed to it.

"Another reason why I didn't inform you of our destination." Sometimes, Tom knew Harry so well it made Harry's heart ache.

Harry took another sip of his drink. "What is this?" he asked, holding his glass up to the candlelight as it refilled itself.

"Frobscottle," said Tom. "They make it here, actually."

Harry took another sip and sat back lazily. This really was a grand evening.

With a wave of Tom's wand, self-playing musical instruments appeared, playing a sweet tune that made Harry think of several other lazy summer days like this one. The ones he could only have when the Dursleys were out and were really only lazy half-days. This was so much better than all of that. "Can you play an instrument at all?" Harry asked Tom.

"I've never had the need to learn," said Tom. "Not with spells like this."

The instruments probably played better than he or Tom ever could with practice and perseverance, but the idea of physically putting fingers to instrument was somehow more magical to Harry. When his was was over, Harry thought he might like to learn to play something. A string instrument, perhaps. The lute in Tom's magical orchestra seemed to call to him.

With a start, Harry realised he was contemplating life after the war for the first time in a long time. Ever since he'd heard about the prophecy Harry was so sure that he'd be killed. For all that he hoped he would be the one standing triumphant, it never occurred to him that it would actually be so. But this future life was tainted, because to be the survivor meant being the one to do the killing. And killing Voldemort would mean killing Tom. He knew there was a reason why he'd never liked Divination.

Tom seemed to notice Harry's distraction. "How about dinner?" he asked. The table was magically cleared and set with the first course. It must have been house elves, thought Harry, unseen or heard. The bowl in front of him contained a clear soup of some kind, with herbs cut into the shape of tiny birds dancing across the surface. It reminded Harry of the birds he'd seen on the lake earlier.

"So what have you been doing since school let out?" Harry asked, then took a sip of soup. It was delicious. Strangely creaming for a broth that looked so light, but it filled him with a warmth that was beyond magical.

Tom told Harry about his new apartment in Diagon Alley. He didn't like it much as it evoked memories of the small room in the orphanage he'd slept in, but he was able to use magic to make it look completely different. He told Harry of how he'd spelled a window to show the view from an island in the Mediterranean Sea, and how he was thinking of changing to to something else.

"If you're going to use magic," said Harry. "Why not use it show you what only magic can?"

"Where would you suggest?" asked Tom.

Harry's mind conjured the image of the inside of a volcano, where he'd once seen a villain live in a movie. "Somewhere magical. Like the dragon enclosures in Romania."

"Or," said Tom. "Where they run wild."

"Yes," said Harry, though he'd had no idea that there were still wild dragons in the world. "Something like that."

When they'd finished eating, Harry suddenly became aware of the lateness of the hour here in France. "What time is it back in Hogsmeade?" he asked. "Ab wants me back for the dinner service."

Tom frowned at the thought of his paramour serving the low-lifes who frequented the Hog's Head. He should be waited upon as he was here. He expressed that much to Harry.

"Ab's doing me a favour," said Harry crossly. "He's letting me stay for free. The least I can do is help him out sometimes and be back when he expects me."

"It's slave labour," said Tom. "Can't he afford some house elves?"

Hermione would kill him, thought Harry. Hermione. He couldn't stay here. What if the travelling potion wore off right now? He'd be transported back and end up on modern day France. Then how would he get home?

"Take me back," said Harry, suddenly panicked. The peace of the evening was ruined. "I'm too far away from home. You know I've never been out of Britain before?"

"That's why I chose this place," said Tom. "It's ours. Not some place you could share with someone else."

"Please Tom," said Harry. "I have to go back." He didn't have time to contemplate how romantic Tom's last statement was.

"What's wrong?" asked Tom.

"Nothing. I've had a lovely time. I just need to go back now."

"You're lying," said Tom. "Why won't you tell me?"

"I did," said Harry. "I'm too far away."

"Okay," Tom relented. "But next time you owe me more time."

"I've got to sort it out with Ab first," said Harry. "I'm sorry, but you can't have me all the time."

"One day," said Tom. "I will."

Harry shivered. The day when he'd surrender himself completely to Tom would be a long time coming. Tom hugged him, and they apparated out.

x x x

On Harry's next free afternoon, he didn't seek out Tom, though he missed him. Instead Harry made his way to London, to the Ministry's public library. It was situated across the street from the Ministry's main building, and held a copy of just about every wizarding text available, though the emphasis was on non-fiction.

Harry wasn't exactly sure what he was looking for, because if anyone had previously accomplished time travel to the extent he had, they certainly hadn't published a book about it. Something like that Harry was sure he would have heard about by now. Perhaps Harry would be the one to publish that book when he returned to his own time. He momentarily imagined the look on Hermione's face as he explained to her exactly how he'd managed to magic himself back to the future.

It turned out that Harry didn't have to know what he was looking for. That probably would have been more of a hindrance as the library wasn't organised in any logical way. Harry had never thought he'd appreciate the lessons he'd had on the Dewey decimal system in junior school, but at least they'd taught him that a library should be organised. The 'stacks' had never seemed a more appropriate term. Everything was arranged in a stack filing system. There were several librarians who seemed to know where the books were, but Harry didn't want to draw attention to his problem. He wasn't sure he'd be believable in trying to explain the hypothetical time travel situation. This was something Harry had to do by himself.

But, thought Harry enviously as a librarian found the book one witch asked for in two seconds flat, he really wished he had help. The only person who might help him was Tom, and Tom would never help him leave. Tom didn't want to give Harry up for anything at this point in time. On the day he wanted Harry gone, he'd sooner kill Harry than send him back to his own time. That was their relationship.

Serendipity more than perseverance brought a book about time turners to Harry's attention. A time turner couldn't solve Harry's problem as they could only take you forward in time after you'd used one to go back. Harry would never be able to make or steal one, anyway. Not one that could take him as far as he wanted to go. But if he could understand how they were made, and the theory behind them, maybe he'd be able to understand how he got here and how to get back. Unfortunately, the magical theory went far beyond what Harry could comprehend. He'd have to teach himself arithmancy and something like alchemy before he could understand the book.

Too soon it was time to return to the Hog's Head and he was unable to bring the book with him. To do that he'd actually have to be registered, and at this point, he didn't want to leave any record that he was in this time, or anything about what he was researching. Even with his fake name they'd probably want some other form of ID before they'd allow him to borrow. He didn't want the librarians to look at him with suspicion. He had to be able to come back to the library.

x x x

_July 1945_

Two weeks into the summer, Tom came to Harry with a smile.

"I have a new job," he said.

"Oh?" said Harry, wondering what sort of job a young Dark Lord would get. In an abattoir? "Where?"

"I will tell you all about it over lunch," said Tom. "I'm buying."

"Okay," agreed Harry.

They strolled out into the sunshine and once again out toward the caves. Tom wrapped his arms around Harry and they apparated. They ended up in a wizarding village by the seaside. Since his seventeenth birthday, Tom would not set foot near the Muggle world. Harry didn't mind that they never went there on their dates. He'd never seen so much of the wizarding world before. Sometimes he wondered if it was because these places no longer existed in his own world, but he doubted it. Wizards rarely changed.

"Where are we?" asked Harry, watching gulls fly over the sea in the distance.

"An island off the coast of Ireland called Po Seidon." Harry had heard Seamus mention having taken a holiday here once. There were underwater ruins nearby and salt water mermaids. This place, at least, was still here in the future. "How do you feel about fish for lunch?" asked Tom.

"It only seems appropriate," said Harry.

Tom led him to a restaurant where the entrance was above ground, but they were given gillyweed and had their clothes charmed so they they could dine underwater. It was like eating inside one of those tanks at a muggle seafood restaurant. They could point to a fish and a moment later it would appear on their plates, cooked however they desired. There were no walls that Harry could see, they were dining in the sea, and a chorus of mermaids serenaded them as they did so.

"So," said Harry as they began the first course. "Where's your new job?"

"Are you familiar with Knockturn Alley?" Tom asked.

Of course that was where a Dark Lord would find employment. "I've set foot in there a few times," said Harry. "The first time was a floo accident."

Tom laughed. "I'm working in a shop called Borgin and Burke's. Selling things for Mr Burke." Tom said his name with derision. Harry didn't think Burke was still around in his time. He wondered if Tom killed him.

"Dark things," said Harry.

"Hopefully," said Tom. His eyes flashed red as he said, "He doesn't let me touch the really valuable stuff yet. But it's only a matter of time."

"Because you'll figure out how to sneak in if he doesn't let you," said Harry.

"You know me so well." Tom's shark grin was well suited to this aquatic environment.

How could Harry not? He'd been inside his head. They were somehow connected. But here, his scar never twinged. That connection wasn't there yet. "So what sort of things do you think he has that he won't let you see?"

"Things from the Hogwarts Founders' time," said Tom. He seemed to be remembering something fondly. "Imagine what powerful magic could be stored in artefacts like those."

Harry thought of Gryffindor's sword. It had been magical holding it but he didn't think it actually held more magic than the ability to slice through an enemy. But he had come into contact with one item from that time that was enchanted; like every Hogwarts student before and after him. "Like the Sorting Hat."

Tom gave Harry an odd look before he laughed. "Imagine that ratty old thing being all powerful."

It was just like Tom to discount something because of its looks. "It looks into the head of every Hogwarts student," said Harry. "And sat on Godric Gryffindor's head every day for years. Imagine what it knows."

Tom scoffed. Harry wondered if the Hat had offended Tom when he'd been sorted. It would be like him to hold a grudge for a petty reason. "No matter how many eleven-year-old heads it looks into, it will isn't going to know much."

"The Hat wanted to put me in Slytherin," said Harry.

Tom paused and reassessed Harry. "Why weren't you?"

Harry told Tom about Draco Malfoy, without actually mentioning his name.

"The Hat didn't say anything to me," said Tom. "It barely touched by head before it said Slytherin."

Just like Draco Malfoy. It was strange how one boy had had such an influence on Harry's life. If he hadn't met Draco Malfoy and had such a distinct impression of what it was to be Slytherin, would he have argued with the Hat? He wanted to say yes, because Ron had warned him, but he had no idea. And it was because of Draco Malfoy that he was here in the past. Harry was starting to think his life would be better if he had never met the pointy-faced git.

"I suppose it sensed your blood," said Harry.

"I should hope it never considered another house."

"If it had," said Harry. "I'm sure you would have talked your way into Slytherin."

"I've no doubt about that," said Tom.

x x x

A couple of weeks into Harry's failed ordinary English translation of the time turner book, Harry was beginning to think he was looking at the problem from the wrong direction. He had been sent here by a potion. A time turner was a magical object, and they bore few similarities to potions. Since it was a potion he should be looking for an antidote, or trying to figure out when it would wear off. Or if it would wear off. Maybe that was when he could come back to trying to decipher the time turner book.

Harry started researching potions. That was both easier, and more difficult than trying to teach himself alchemy. There was a wealth of books on the subject, but there was also nothing on the ability of a potion to send anything to any point in time, specified or otherwise. There wasn't even much on transporting objects from one place to another. Wizards, it seemed, just didn't use potions for those things.

Golpalott's Third Law. Harry saw the words and tried to remember what he'd learnt in potions with both Slughorns. He saw the definition and finally understood what it actually meant. It didn't help Harry much, though, since he had no idea about the ingredients that went into his potion. There was the original potion as per the Prince's adjustments, and then whatever Malfoy had thrown in. And if Harry had had the time to get a good look at whatever it was he was sure that it wouldn't have ended up in his potion in the first place.

Without knowing the exact ingredients, Harry couldn't really go any farther down the potions path. He turned to the heavens. Maybe the potion hadn't had anything to do with it. Maybe there was just some sort of portal that he'd travelled through that just happened to coincide with the blowing up of his potion. Harry realised that it was a long shot, but he was running out of places to go. It was no wonder the teachers at Hogwarts hadn't wanted to spend any time helping him. Everything was a dead end.

Putting the sky charting skills learnt in Astronomy class to good use, Harry was able to figure out almost exactly what was in the sky at the time of his departure from the future. He remembered the date. And when he was looking at the planet rotations and the nearest stars, he saw that at about the time he was transported, an alignment known as the Azimuth-al-Sufi would be in the sky for one split second. Long enough to send him away, and was an alignment that came around every thirteen months as it was based on the motion of a comet in some other galaxy.

That, wasn't actually the solution to his problem, though. The last time the Azimuth-al-Sufi had appeared in this time was a month ago and he hadn't been transported back. Instead, Harry needed calculate the reverse planetary alignment. Luckily it wasn't in fact a mirror image of the Azimuth-al-Sufi, which was basically an impossibility, but a different alignment which embued nature with the opposite effect. The formation Harry was looking for was the Azimuth-al-Rahman. And that, it seemed, also came around every thirteen months and was due to form in September this year.

Harry only needed to discover if he needed to do something when it appeared. But this was the breakthrough that he needed. Even if Harry couldn't figure out what needed to be done in the next two months, he'd have another attempt at it in thirteen months.

September... with a little more of his infamous Potter luck, he'd be back home in two months. Harry wasn't sure what to make of it.

x x x

There were a few instances in Harry Potter's life when he'd fallen asleep in one world and woken up in another the next day. There was the day he met Hagrid and learned about magic's existence, the day Voldemort was resurrected, the day Sirius died, the day Harry ended up in the past, and one day that Harry didn't even remember: the day he'd defeated Voldemort as a baby. Harry had always skimmed over the parts about himself in their history textbooks, and had never heard anyone recount the day so he didn't really have an idea of what that would have been like. At least he hadn't, until today.

It started with a persistent banging on the front door that Ab refused to answer. Not one to disobey his boss/landlord, Harry didn't respond to it either. Not until their regular opening hour when he was surprised by the sheer number of wizards and witches who toppled in, none intent on a meal, all of them wanting drinks that Harry couldn't yet serve. the morning patrons were usually quite subdued, barely able to keep themselves upright. Today's group didn't seem to have been to bed the night before.

"First round's on me," cried on man exuberantly. He was rewarded with several thumps on the back.

Once Ab had poured the drinks, Harry helped carry them out. For once they didn't care who brought their drinks to them. His pockets were about to burst from the rather ridiculous amount of tips they were thrusting upon him. Ab was made to sit down at one table grudgingly and Harry went behind the bar.

Today there were no silencing spells or whispers so Harry heard quite clearly when one man with a bright green wizard's hat all but shouted to Ab, "He's done it. Albus has gone and done it."

All at once it clicked into place. Of course! thought Harry. How could he have forgotten that the end of the war was upon them? No wonder everyone wanted a drink and was being friendly toward complete strangers. Harry couldn't control the grin that spread across his face now that he understood.

Ab, on the other hand, did not look pleased at all. "I suppose it's like this everywhere," he grumbled.

"Of course! It's the end of the war." He nudged Ab conspiratorially. "But the smart galleons were that this would be the best spot for drinks."

Ab's expression worsened. "I suppose they'll name today after him," said Ab, looking downright ugly.

"If not everything else!" The other man didn't seem to mind that his companion was far from celebratory.

Ab shook his head and left the table. Seeing him on the move some else shouted, "Next round's on me!"

Harry started lining up the glasses as Ab joined him.

"Suppose no one thought to ask him why he took his time," muttered Ab.

"Actually I did," said Harry.

Ab blinked at him. "Oh did you now?"

"I know it seems like he was too chicken to do it," said Harry. "And that was part of it, but he had to be sure that he'd succeed first."

"And you think that makes it okay?"

"Well it's over now, isn't it?" Harry sensed something deeply resentful in Ab. With the familiarity that Ab spoke of Dumbledore, Harry had assumed that they were friends. Now it seemed that wasn't the case.

Someone got very vocal about not having a sip to drink so in the next second Ab was off with the refills.

It was like that for the rest of the day, so Harry couldn't take the afternoon off as he usually did. He was kept busy clearing and cleaning while Ab refilled. Occasionally someone would remember that they hadn't eaten all day and Harry would fetch them a bowl of stew. Ab had his hands full as the crowd grew larger and more drunk. He had to kick people out a few times for setting off fireworks or conjuring other annoyances. But those who were ejected were happy enough to join the revellers in the street. In once case a witch was booted out for trying to clean the windows, to Harry's carefully hidden amusement.

Tom came in at about four in the afternoon and Ab didn't look too happy to see him. Not that the man had been particularly happy all day. Ab was all too aware that Tom would want no less than Harry's full attention. He kissed Harry right in front of everyone to cat calls and cheers.

"Ah, young love," said one witch. "You should thank Dumbledore you can do that."

Tom shot her a displeased look.

"Sorry Tom," said Harry. As much as he wanted to see Tom, he knew that it wasn't a good idea. "This really isn't a good time."

Tom would not be placated. His mood seemed as awful as Ab's. Of course he would be. He now had to accept that Dumbledore was more than just a mad old wizard. He was capable and accomplished enough to defeat a Dark Lord. Tom had probably had plans in place to deal with Grindelwald later on once he'd consolidated himself. "But I need you," said Tom petulantly.

"So does Ab," said Harry.

Tom show the barman a look. "Not the way that I do."

"This will have died down by tomorrow," said Harry. "Can't you come back?"

"No," said Tom. He glared at one witch and she quickly vacated her seat for him. Tom sat down.

"Okay," Harry relented, looking over at Ab. "Ten minutes," he said.

They went up to Harry's room. Tom gave it a disgusted glance. "I can do that spell for you," he said. "The one that gives you a window."

"No thanks," said Harry, wary of what Ab would think. "What did you want to talk about?"

"What do you reckon? The war, obviously."

Harry sighed. "You didn't really think it was going to last forever."

"I thought I might stop Grindelwald once he was done taking over Europe. Let him do the hard work for me, and show everyone that I'm more than capable.

It was yet another situation Harry couldn't believe he'd gotten himself into. Imagine having to reassure a Dark Lord that his plan was going to succeed. "I thought you'd stopped making plans," he said instead.

"I can't," said Tom.

"You're depressing," said Harry. "Obviously you're going to succeed. Can't you just pretend to be happy like the rest of the world?"

Tom shook his head. "I really wish Dippet had let me take the Defence job."

"Oh come on," said Harry. "You'll come up with a plan when you need it." He kissed Tom fiercely, trying to make him forget everything.

Tom drew back. "Dumbledore will be an impressive foe."

The boy had a one track mind. "Good," said Harry. "Think of it as a challenge." One, thought Harry, that still remains to be conquered.

"I like the sound of that," said Tom, clutching Harry tightly to himself. "He'd be no match for both of us."

"I'm not going to fight Dumbledore," said Harry.

"Why not? He's obviously powerful. Are you telling me that he doesn't use it? There must have been things he's done that you don't like."

"It doesn't mean I want to kill him."

"You'd kill me," said Tom.

"When Dumbledore kills as many people as you then I'll go after him."

Tom didn't like the sound of that, but Ab came barging in to tell them that time was up and Harry had to get back to work. Tom scowled, but let Harry go.

x x x

At closing that night, when Ab had shoved the last drunken wizard out the door, Dumbledore slid in silently. Ab looked exasperated, but let the man in anyway. Harry finished cleaning up as the two older men went upstairs with a bottle of firewhiskey and two shot glasses. That was probably more for Ab than Dumbledore.

Despite having known that Dumbledore defeated Grindelwald, Harry couldn't help but feel differently about the man who'd just walked upstairs. Harry supposed it was because he was one step closer to becoming the man Harry knew and respected.

Harry had to walk past Ab and Dumbledore on the way into his room. He resolved to do it as quickly as possible so that he didn't hear anything that he didn't want to. The two men were gazing at the picture of the girl hanging on the wall. "I loved her," said Dumbledore. "I didn't show it the way you did, but I loved her."

"I know," said Ab. "I always did. Never stopped me from hating you."

Harry went into his own room. He was not going to think about that. He was not going to wonder if that was why they were no longer friends. If they'd argued over a girl. He wasn't going to notice that it didn't seem right. He was going to forget it all.

x x x

_August 1945_

"Happy Birthday," Ab said on the first of the month.

Harry was startled, as Ab was so close to the truth. "It's not my birthday," said Harry.

"But you did say you'd be seventeen by August, so you must have had your birthday by now."

"Thanks," said Harry, oddly touched.

"Since it's your birthday," said Ab. "I thought I might let you start serving drinks today. You've earnt my trust and I reckon the regulars have gotten used to your face."

Harry had gotten to know most of the regulars by sight now, too. He didn't know them any better than that, though. "Okay," said Harry, thinking it was more of a punishment than a present. At the same time, it was the first point of difference that being seventeen had given him. He'd vaguely thought that on the day of his legal adulthood he would feel different. So far he hadn't. He didn't think it was just because he was in the past.

"You've been a good helper so far," said Ab. "Didn't think I was getting such a deal when Albus sent you to me."

"I'm no stranger to hard work," said Harry.

"I can tell," said Ab. "But since it is your birthday, I reckon you can have the day off. So long as you're back for the dinner rush."

That was the nicest thing Ab had ever done for him. "Thank you," he said sincerely.

The two of them finished their breakfasts. "So what are your plans today?" asked Ab. "Going to see that boyfriend of yours?"

Harry could never tell whether Ab liked or disliked Tom. When they occasionally met they greeted one another with civility, but that was all. "Yes," said Harry. "I think he's got the day off, too."

"Where is he working?" asked Ab, before draining his tea cup.

"Borgin and Burke's," said Harry, knowing Ab wouldn't care about its less than reputable status. "They started him as a sales assistant but he'd doing acquisitions now."

"Oh?" said Ab, interested. "Does he dig them up from old magical sites?"

"No," said Harry, thinking that was a lot more interesting. "He buys things off people to sell. He's too charming for his own good."

Ab smirked. "Is that a little jealousy I hear?"

Harry flushed scarlet. He really had to get a hold of his jealousy. He was going to have to leave. Why shouldn't Tom have someone else in the meantime? "Sometimes," said Harry. "I don't think I've quite got hold of him."

More worrisome than Tom falling for someone else was the hold the Dark Arts had upon him. Now that he was working at Borgin and Burke's the temptation of dark artefacts was all around. And Harry had noticed he was something of a collector. He'd taken Caspian's prefect badge, and Harry's wand- things that meant quite a lot to them. Harry wondered how many acquisitions he'd taken home and not back to Mr Borgin.

"I can't say that I'm an expert on the matters of the heart," said Ab, though he looked thoughtful as though remembering a long lost love. "But it seems to me he rather likes you. You don't seem his type but he's courting you all the same."

"I'm not his type?" said Harry. He felt like he should be offended.

"You're hard-working. Got more than half a brain in your head, though you don't show it most of the time."

That at least was a compliment, if not to Tom. "He could just be stringing me along," said Harry. "Trying to get something from me."

"Then you'll have him so long as you don't give it up."

Harry had never thought about it that way before. It was entirely unromantic. He wasn't about to give up more about the future, so Tom would stick by until he went back to his own time. Unfortunately he'd never know Tom's true feelings unless he told him everything, so that he had no more to give. That could never happen. But Harry supposed that all relationships were like that. You never did know exactly what your partner was thinking and feeling.

But in the future Harry was from, where Tom was Voldemort, he knew all that Harry had done, and more. If Harry returned to the future he could know whether any of this was real... if Voldemort didn't kill him right away. For the first time, Harry was starting to think that a relationship with Voldemort might be preferable to one with Tom. Time wouldn't be keeping them apart; there would be no secrets of that kind. Harry felt homesick for a Voldemort that he didn't know. The one who remembered what it was like to be Tom. The one who had known Evan James, and would know that Harry was him. The one he hoped wouldn't still be trying to kill him, but instead was looking for a way around the prophecy. Harry found himself wanting that relationship. Wanting it to work. He wanted a Tom he could share all of himself with. It was a dream. He'd never be able to find all of that in Voldemort. Would he?

"I wish it was real," said Harry.

"Real?" asked Ab.

"I wish I really knew what was going through his head."

"Don't we all?" said Ab absently.

"Are you good friends with Professor Dumbledore?" asked Harry, wondering if that's who he was thinking about. "You bring him up a lot and you've let me live with you as a favour to him."

"Friends?" said Ab. "Not likely."

Harry felt he'd trodden upon something private.

"I thought you knew," said Ab. "Albus is my brother."

Harry blushed, eyes widening as he made the connection between the name and face. "You're Aberforth Dumbledore."

Ab seemed to clam up, physically drawing back from Harry. Harry himself was trying to reconcile what he knew about Aberforth Dumbledore with the Hog's Head's barman. It wasn't much. Something about goats? Harry guessed it might be embarrassing and all this time Ab had thought Harry had known and treated him as though it was nothing strange. There was nothing now, but to continue as if he had all along.

"Sorry," said Harry. "I shouldn't have brought it up."

"No," said Ab, brushing it off with a wave of his dish-towel. "You didn't know."

Harry wanted to escape this awkward situation and thought the feeling would be mutual. "Er, I'd better go meet Tom now." When he got back they could all pretend that none of this had happened.

Ab still looked a little disturbed, but Harry guessed they could figure this out later.

x x x

Harry flooed from the upstairs room of the Hog's Head to Diagon Alley. On his way to visit Tom, he stopped to pick up a snack. There was a good nut shop right beside the Magical Menagerie's predecessor, also a pet shop. He got an assortment then went to find Tom. He hadn't visited the apartment before, but Tom had described it well enough to Harry that he could figure out exactly where it was: on the fifth floor of the building directly opposite Madam Malkin's.

Harry knocked on the door with the door knocker. It was something of a magical doorbell. Tom came out wearing a thin house robe, completely surprised to see Harry. "Ab gave me the day off," he explained. "Because it's my birthday."

Tom ushered Harry in, letting the door close behind them. "You didn't mention that it was your birthday."

Harry smirked. "Because it isn't."

"Oh," said Tom. "You just couldn't wait to see me."

"That's right," said Harry, letting Tom think whatever he wanted. He certainly wouldn't be stupid enough to tell Tom that he was born as the seventh month waned. Harry wrapped himself around Tom to distract him from the subject.

"And you're here," said Tom. "Does that mean you're ready?"

Harry drew back. "No," he said. He was starting to think that sex would be the final step in a relationship with Tom. If he had sex with him that would be a weapon that Voldemort could use against him. Harry couldn't let him take it.

Tom was clearly frustrated by him, but nodded. "Let's go out, then. If we go to Borgin's I can show you the latest things I picked up from a hermit in Gloucester."

"I want to have a look around your place first," said Harry, wondering if Tom was trying to get him out because he was hiding something. Nothing seemed out of place though, so he let his attention be caught by one of the picture windows. It looked out into a forest clearing where a herd of unicorns was grazing. Harry let the thoughts of Voldemort and unicorn blood slip from his mind and said, "Do the windows open?"

"Yes," said Tom, demonstrating. He stuck his hand out and waved, but none of the animals noticed.

"What if the window is open and one of them sticks its head through. Then could it see us?"

"No," said Tom.

"That's complicated spell work," said Harry, whose only spell practice these days was cleaning glasses.

Tom smiled at him. "You should see my wards," he said.

Harry laughed. "That sounds like a really bad pick up line."

Tom wrapped his arms around Harry. "Well I don't need a good one. I've already got you."

x x x

Harry and Tom did end up at Borgin and Burke's eventually, where Harry tolerated Tom nattering on and on about what looked to Harry like a jewellery box. Apparently it had belonged to some Egyptian queen and possibly still held her entire jewellery collection and that each piece was unique and charmed for different purposes from enhancing beauty to protection spells and curses. It sounded like a crock to Harry, but the witch standing next to them eavesdropping seemed to be buying it.

"It's your day off," said Harry upon realising he'd been used in a con.

Tom shrugged. "Mr Burke appreciates all of my work."

Harry could see the man greedily counting the galleons he'd received from the sale. Harry was deluding himself if he thought Tom was only working for the money.

"Come on," said Harry. What else did you want to show me?"

They went tot he wizarding version of an arcade, years ahead of its muggle equivalent. Various teenagers were milling about stalls testing their dexterity and spell work against fictional foes. It was a lot of illusion spells and Harry was impressed by how well they all held up.

Tom was particularly good at one game which reminded Harry of the Third Task of the Tri-Wizard Tournament. You had to navigate through a maze and overcome various obstacles. He achieved the highest score on the leader board and won a trinket that supposedly brought good luck. Tom was ready to toss it, but Harry took it, thinking it would make a nice memento of their day together... while he was still in the past. He wondered what would happen to it when he was gone. He clutched it tightly, the way he would until he was returned to his own time.

x x x

Harry learned a lot about magic in general as he tried to figure out what he'd need to do on the day of the Azimuth-al-Rahman to be sent back. Every day Harry better understood why it was thought impossible to travel in time. It seemed as though one would require a complete history of all branches of magic, including as one essay theorised, dark magic- as they didn't think there was any way any good could come of travelling into the future. Harry wished the potion had sent him into his future instead. Then again, if it was a world in which everyone he loved was dead and Voldemort reigned, he'd want to come right back to this time.

By the end of summer, Harry really rather thought that he was going about this thing entirely the wrong way again. Of course he wasn't going to be able to do something no one else had ever done before. he was displaced from where he should be in the timeline. What he really needed was some sort of spell that would drag his body back to its rightful place. Some sort of blood to blood type summoning spell, maybe. Empathy magic. Even if they had to cast it in the future, Harry was sure this was the right solution to the problem. This, at least, didn't rely upon waiting for one second every thirteen months.

The problem was that he didn't have the time to pursue this new path, even though he'd had to stay in Hogsmeade rather than holidaying with Etienne in France. He had to go back to Hogwarts.

x X X x

A/N: Quick question: Who would you rather pair Neville with: Ginny, Luna or nobody? Or, I guess we could stick with canon and have him with Hannah Abbott. No promises, though.

Second quick question: Is a Ron/Hermione sex scene going to freak everyone out? Not going to go more in detail into it than I have Harry and Tom's sexual interactions so far, but definitely more than just the mention I've given R/Hr's previous sexual relations. I'm afraid it's a little awkward.

And, as I said before, any last requests before Harry goes back to the future? This is basically your last chance. And as always, let me know if you spot any errors because as always, I was too lazy to proof-read.


	17. Summer in London

**Time and Again**

**Author's Note: **Okay, so at about the time that I started posting this story, I'd basically written a first draft up to this point. And here I remained stuck, until now. So here you go. The reason why you didn't get a chapter for months and months and months. It shouldn't take nearly as long for the next chapter because it is a) not that long, and b) already written though not typed.

BTW, it is with this chapter that I discovered that Google Docs really does have a limit on how long a doc can be. I thought it was a myth... and the story's not over yet! This is definitely the longest thing I've ever written.

**Chapter 16 - Summer in London**

_June 1997_

"Destroyed nerves?" said Hermione, repeating what Madam Pomfrey had just told her. "But I can still feel my legs."

Ron looked at her and tried not to let the tears fall from his eyes. If he could take Hermione's illness upon himself he would have. If only he'd noticed the Death Eater earlier. He would have pushed Hermione out of the way. He would have taken anything for her. Now all he could do was sit by her side and hold her hand, even as it trembled.

"Pain," said Madam Pomfrey. "That's all. You won't be able to control them again. The best we can do is manage the pain."

"I don't understand," said Neville. "Why that curse?"

No one knew. Perhaps no one would ever know.

"I suppose he recognised that she was muggle-born," said Madam Pomfrey. "And wanted to use something more inventive than an Unforgivable."

"Why not just kill her?" wondered Ron.

"No one comes back from death," said Hermione. "He was probably being cautious."

"Cautious?" said Ron. "That's all you have to say about the man who cursed you for life?"

Hermione sniffed and turned her head away from Ron. "What else is there to say?"

"That he's a vicious, cruel, maniacal, sadistic, insane, magic-forsaken, fat, twat of a man, maybe?" said Ron.

"You forgot servile and vile by itself," said Luna.

Ginny lost it, cackling hysterically before Madam Pomfrey thrust a calming draught at her. "This is all so, so wrong," said Ginny, shaking her head once she'd calmed down. Neville stroked gentle circles across her back, and she leaned her head on his shoulder. Ron's eyes narrowed. Ginny rolled her eyes.

x x x

They had a surprise visitor in the hospital wing the next day. Kingsley Shacklebolt himself had taken time out of what must have been a busy schedule to pay them a visit.

He looked first at Ron and Hermione, then at Neville, Ginny and Luna, looking very unsure of them.

"Can we help you, Auror Shacklebolt?" asked Ron.

"No need for formalities," said Shacklebolt. "Call me Kingsley. The office of Auror doesn't hold the same influence it did two days ago."

"Okay, Kingsley," said Ron. "Do you have a message from our parents?" The Weasleys had all left earlier very reluctantly. But there were things that needed to be done that were more important for Order members than looking after children who were capable of looking after themselves.

"No," said Shacklebolt. "From Dumbledore."

"Dumbledore?" said Ron with surprise.

"Yes," said Shacklebolt. "And he told me that I should only speak with you, Hermione, or Harry Potter."

Ron looked at his sister. "Anything you say to us you can say in front of them," said Ron. "We're just going to tell them anyway."

Shacklebolt looked a little unsure. Ron supposed that he would be too. He wouldn't want to flub up the last thing that Dumbledore had ever asked him to do. Finally Shacklebolt nodded. He drew a locket from his pocket and handed it to Ron. "He asked me to give you this. It had better be important," said Shacklebolt. "That's what he died for that night."

Knowing what it was, Ron didn't want to touch it. He quickly slid it into his trouser pocket. "Thank you," he said. "It's more important than you know."

Shacklebolt frowned. "I don't suppose you'll tell me why?"

Ron shook his head. "It's better if we don't."

"I just don't understand why he'd trust you with this," said Kingsley. "And not me."

"It's not us he trusts," said Ron. "It's Harry."

Shacklebolt's eyes opened wider. "I see. And where is Harry?"

"I can't tell you that, either," said Ron. He'd thought that everyone in the Order knew, but if Shacklebolt didn't then there must be a reason why. "But he's coming back. Eventually."

"I hope," said Shacklebolt, collecting himself. "That all goes well." He looked at Hermione. "I'm very sorry about what happened to you."

Hermione could manage nothing more than a weak smile. She was still in pain. So far none of Madam Pomfrey's pain relieving potions had worked. Ron squeezed her hand tightly.

"I should have been there," said Shacklebolt. "But our errand was over, and I thought it prudent to return home. The world today... mere children tasked to do what adults cannot." He said the last part to himself.

"It's not your fault," Hermione managed.

"She's right," said Ron. "The only ones to blame are Voldemort and the Death Eater who did it."

"I'm sorry," Kingsley repeated, before leaving the room.

"Well," said Ron to the faces looking at him. "At least we've got one." The weight of the locket was heavy in his pocket.

x x x

The next few days passed in a blur for Ron. With Voldemort's complete takeover of the wizarding world, most of the students had left Hogwarts. Madam Pomfrey worked on providing Hermione with at least a temporary cure for her pain. Ron wasn't going to leave until they had the skills necessary to ensure Hermione's comfort.

The potion which seemed to have the best effect on her nerves took almost a week to brew. It was one which had been created to ease the suffering brought on by the Cruciatus curse and Madam Pomfrey had only had one vial available. But it wasn't complicated to brew so Hermione would probably manage to brew it by herself if Madam Pomfrey would allow a cauldron in the hospital wing. As it was, Madam Pomfrey taught the rest of them how to brew it in the course of that week, then they were ready to leave.

Ron had no idea whether they would ever return to Hogwarts. With Voldemort in charge of the Wizarding World Ron was sure that if the school reopened in September, that it would not be a place that he would want to be. But if Harry were to return, and everyone was sure that he would, then it was most likely he would return to Hogwarts. And Ron couldn't let Harry stumble into this backwards world all by himself.

Professor Snape hadn't returned to the castle. With Dumbledore dead, and Snape having killed him, Snape no longer had the excuse of protecting his cover and so couldn't find an opportunity to contact them.

With their trunks packed, and each of them carrying vials of Hermione's potion as well as the instructions and ingredients for brewing more, it was time to leave. When their parents had left, Ron and Ginny had promised to follow them as soon as they could. Mr and Mrs Weasley understood about needing to stay behind for Hermione, but they were already getting antsy. What Ginny and Ron had failed to tell their parents was that they wouldn't be returning. They had all agreed that it was better to break from them now. They still had horcruxes to find, whatever they were going to do with them in the end, they knew that they were perhaps all the power they could get before Harry returned.

Madam Pomfrey burst into the hospital wing. "Are you children still here?" she said.

Ron stamped down on the urge to tell her that they weren't children. Children couldn't possibly be expected to deal with what they had to go through. "We're not quite ready yet," he said.

Hermione interrupted. "Did you want something?" she asked.

"Oh," said Madam Pomfrey. "Professor Snape is on his way." Was that relief that Ron was feeling? "You'd better leave before he gets here."

"Why?" asked Ron.

"He's bringing some Death Eaters with him," said Madam Pomfrey. "They will be assessing the school, making changes before classes begin again in the autumn." That was not good. Not good at all.

"What are we going to do?" Ron asked the room once Madam Pomfrey was ensconced in her office.

"We have to go somewhere until we can figure it out," said Hermione.

With the potion in Hermione's system, she was as good as usual, aside from the fact that she couldn't use her legs. When she was propped up with books surrounding her, it was easy for the rest of them to forget that anything had happened. Then one of them would take a second to stretch their legs and they would all be reminded of what Hermione would no longer be able to do.

"We can hide in Grimmauld Place," said Ron. "They'll have ransacked it by now and realised that the Order has moved on."

"What if they've posted a guard?" said Hermione.

"We'll stake it out first, then," said Ron. "And if not, I guess we can go to Neville's house?"

Neville raised an eyebrow. "My gran's not just going to let you all stay there."

"She won't have to know," said Ron. "The place is huge, right?"

"In theory," said Neville, his scepticism apparent. "But Gran always had a way of knowing what I was up to."

"We can go to my house," said Luna.

"These places are too obvious," said Hermione.

"Couldn't we stay here?" said Neville. "Hide in the Room."

"But how would we get out of and back into the castle?" said Ron. "We're going to need to come and go."

"Let's not think too far ahead," said Ginny. "If Grimmauld doesn't pan out we can join the Order and work out how to sneak out of there."

No one was entirely comfortable with that idea, but it was the best they had so far. No one wanted to admit that if they did go back to the adults they might never come back. It would be too tempting to pretend that they didn't know anything more about the war and let them handle it, at least until Harry came back.

"Do you think," said Neville quietly. "That anything has happened to St Mungo's?"

Ron paled. He'd been so selfish, not even considering where Neville's parents were in all of this. His grandmother and Luna's father would probably be alright for the moment, by virtue of their pure blood and the fact that they weren't actively opposing Voldemort. But Neville's parents were taking up valuable space in a hospital. They'd defied Voldemort before. It would be easy for anyone to come in and finish them off, or leave them to die.

"Nev, I'm so sorry I didn't even think of them," said Ron.

"It's okay," said Neville. "I didn't really want to think about it either."

"We have to get them out," said Ginny. There was no arguing with her when she spoke. And barring a few questions about how exactly they were going to pull that off, no one would have wanted to argue with her anyway.

"I promise it will be the first thing we do," said Ron, still feeling the guilt. "The rest of the things can wait."

x x x

Strangely, no one seemed to be monitoring Grimmauld Place. Ron knew because Hermione had made them sit out on the street almost all night before finally she'd agreed that no one was coming. Of course, the danger in having chosen a no-longer-safe house as their safe house meant that they'd need to be particularly careful. It had the plus side of being an unexpected place.

Besides being greeted in the usual fashion by Mrs Black, everything was different. You'd think the house had been abandoned for months. There was dust over everything and one of the couches had even been upturned. "Kreacher?" Ron called, not knowing if the house elf would answer. He might still have been at Hogwarts. They should have checked before they left.

Kreacher did not appear. They hadn't thought it likely that he would. He was Harry's elf, not theirs.

The five of them ended up sharing an upstairs bedroom to be as unobtrusive as possible. It was one of the ones Ron, Hermione and Ginny had spent hours cleaning out, and though it had been the most dust covered when they first moved in, it was now the least dust-covered in the house. Ron had insisted that Hermione take the bed, Hermione insisted that he share it with her, and the rest of them camped on the floor with bedding taken from the other rooms. They'd gotten some food from the kitchens before they left, and so with a small snack, they started to plan how to get Neville's parents out of St Mungo's.

Hermione of course, couldn't be part of the actual rescue mission.

"It's okay," she tried reassuring Ron for the millionth time. "I'll be fine here." Hermione really was a treasure. Ron felt that although she was the one with the injury she had to be doubly brave for him and for herself. He really had to figure out some way to help her. Ron added that to the list of things to do once Harry came back.

"What can you tell us about the hospital, Nev?" Ron asked, changing the topic.

Neville explained the layout of the ward. There were anti-apparition wards all over the hospital, save the entrances, and each patient wore a spelled bracelet that alerted the hospital if they tried to break it or leave the ward. The medi-witches didn't often pay attention when a bracelet actually sounded the alarm because they were always aware of which patients were the difficult ones. Frank and Alice Longbottom were not among them.

If they went at night they wouldn't have to contend with any Healers, only the medi-wizards. The Healers only made the rounds once a day. The permanent patients were also less likely to have visitors at odd hours. Visitors were an unknown that could change the whole situation.

"How do the medi-witches get the bracelets off when patients are discharged?" asked Hermione.

"I think it's a simple counter-charm," said Neville. "But I've never seen it done. I don't think they wanted me releasing my parents. I never thought I'd want to."

Luna patted Neville gently on the arm. He smiled at her gratefully.

"Do they all know it?" asked Hermione. "Or is there one witch or wizard who does it for everyone?"

"I think they all know it," said Neville. "But I think it's a different charm per floor, so we'd have to get one of the Janus Thickey staff to do it."

"Like they're just going to tell us," said Ginny.

"Veritaserum?" said Ron.

"How would we get it? And then what? Would we just wait for someone to want a tea break?" said Ginny.

"I don't see you suggesting anything," said Ron. "Can't you be just a little bit more constructive?"

His sister rolled her eyes, but shut up.

"Are we sure there will even still be staff there?" said Hermione. "They might have been forced onto other floors, or left because they aren't pure-blooded."

"We can't know," said Ron. Even though he was used to thinking several steps ahead, this was too many unknowns. It was like playing chess blind.

"We've got to figure out a way around the bracelets ourselves," said Hermione.

"We'll only have one shot before the alarm goes off," said Ron.

"And we don't have one we can test on," said Hermione.

"We won't need it if no one's paying attention," said Ron. "We could start a distraction."

"We need to break the charm properly," said Neville. "If the alarm's not switched off the entire hospital goes into lockdown. It happened once when Mr Marbleton locked all the medi-witches and wizards into a store room. In lockdown no one who isn't a Healer or an auror is allowed to move more than a metre from where they were when it started."

"Maybe a sympathy spell?" said Hermione, thinking of ways to get around the bracelets. "We bring in a similar bracelet and transfer the spell from one to the other."

"That doesn't sound simple," said Ron. "Do you really think one of us could pull that off?"

"I'll do anything to get my parents out," said Neville with determination.

"It might not even work," said Hermione. "Even if we can't do it, it's still simple magic. They're probably warded against magical tampering. But maybe a barrier spell would do it. Environmental preservation. We trick it into thinking it's still where it's supposed to be."

"I think they've got tracking charms on them," said Neville.

"But if the barrier charm's done correctly," said Hermione. "Any spell to find it that they cast will just lead them back to where we cast the barrier spell. It will say they're still in St Mungo's."

"Even if it doesn't set off the alarm," said Neville. "We still need to get them off somehow."

"It's just a bracelet," said Ginny. "How hard could it be to destroy?"

"In any case," said Hermione. "How do you get in there without someone letting the Death Eaters know you're there? Everyone knows you're connected to the Order, they might try to take you as hostages."

"Luna and I can get in without looking suspicious," said Neville.

"We can't let you go in there alone," said Ginny.

"Why?" said Neville. "You don't think we're good enough to get my parents out?"

"That's not it at all," said Ginny. "You shouldn't have to do it alone. You should have as many people backing you up as possible."

"Besides," said Ron. "That might be the only reason why they're keeping your parents alive. To get to you."

Neville shivered.

"We're all going," said Ron. "We just have to figure out how."

"Why not fly?" said Luna.

"Fly?" said Ron. "We can't just sprout wings."

"No," said Ginny, looking at her brother as though he was as dumb as a mountain troll. "But we do have these things called brooms."

x x x

It took the rest of the week to find the right barrier spell, and to learn how to cast it. They had to transfigure robes so they'd look like Healers. Then Neville had pointed out that they couldn't all be healers, so he and Luna were going to pretend to be visitors. The plan was that the four of them would walk in. Once the bracelets were disabled, Neville and Luna would leave with Neville's parents disguised as Ron and Ginny. Then Ron and Ginny would leave out a window via broomstick. It was a simple enough plan, which was how Ron knew it was all going to go terribly wrong.

Ron kissed Hermione goodbye, leaving her sitting on the bed in the room they were all sharing. He'd made sure to pile a bunch of books beside her, and leave a tray beside her in case she got hungry. Subtly, he'd left a bedpan for her, since she wouldn't be able to get up to go to the bathroom. Hermione was better with cleaning spells than he was, so perhaps it wasn't necessary, but Ron wanted her to be as comfortable and little embarrassed as possible.

"Are you sure you've got everything?" he asked his girlfriend.

Hermione smiled at him gently. "I'm fine, Ron. You're the ones who are doing something dangerous."

"We'll be fine, too," said Ron. "And when we come back, you'll have two more people to worry about."

"Just be careful," said Hermione. "If anything goes wrong... I know I can't be there, but I can still help."

"We know," said Ron. "We'll send a patronus."

Hermione nodded.

"And if we can't, we'll use the galleons," said Neville.

"Okay," said Hermione. "Stay safe."

x x x

The beginning of their plan went swimmingly easily. Looking like they did this every day, the four of them walked right into the hospital, and up to the appropriate floor. They passed one medi-witch on duty, and she looked up at them before going back to filing her nails. Apparently she wasn't fussed by the strangers. They went straight into the Longbottoms' room and shut the door behind them.

This was where the first of the problems came in. Mr and Mrs Longbottom really weren't lucid enough to look like they were the healers that Ron and Ginny were pretending to be. It was a struggle to get them to change their clothes, both of them staring at the four of them as though they were crazy. Every second Ron was sure that the medi-witch was about to walk in and tell them off for disturbing the patients, but so far she hadn't noticed the odd sounds they were making. Neville finally talked his parents into going along with him, telling them they were going to be allowed on a walk outside of the hospital. Docilely, they nodded.

Ron could barely stand to look at them as he and Neville helped Mr Longbottom into the robe he'd been wearing. They were just so... absent. For a moment he wondered if this was really the right course of action. They were still here, they hadn't been murdered. Taking them out of this place where they were well cared for couldn't actually help them, could it? Ron didn't know anything about the long term effects of the Cruciatus curse. What if they got worse while they were meant to be looking after them? What if the Longbottoms died? He didn't know if he'd be able to forgive himself.

Neville nudged him out of his stupor. He had his serious face on, the one that Ron never saw except in life or death situations. "You have to cast the spell," said Neville. It had been decided that Ron would cast it, not because of his superior magical ability, but because he was the only one over seventeen, and they didn't know if the ministry monitored under-age magic in the hospital. They probably didn't, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

Ron nodded. This was the first thing that could go really, really wrong. They were relying on the fact that it would be difficult to maintain magic-detecting wards over the entire hospital that could detect magic, so there wouldn't be any. There were signs all over the ward telling visitors that spells were prohibited, but that may just be a warning. They were counting on the fact that the hospital wouldn't be sent into immediate lockdown. If they set off the alarm now they were all going to have to leave via the window.

"Brooms out, Ginny," Ron said to his sister. She set them up. The Longbottoms eyed them curiously. They probably hadn't seen a broom since they'd entered the hospital. Then she opened the window. She nodded at Ron.

Luna and Neville had their wands out, ready to stop anyone who tried to get in through the door.

Ron said the barrier spell first on Mr Longbottom's bracelet. No alarms were set off. That was good, but they didn't know whether it was because nothing had happened, or if it was because it had worked. Quickly, Ron cast the spell on Mrs Longbottom's bracelet. Again nothing seemed to happen.

Ron looked at Neville. "I guess it worked?" he said.

"Well we have to try," said Neville.

From here on out it would be more difficult to escape from the hospital if they set off any alarms. Since the Longbottoms were now pretending to be the people that Ron and Ginny had come in as, Ron and Ginny themselves couldn't leave the room. If they set off the alarm as they left the ward, Neville and Luna would have to get out in any way possible before the hospital went into lockdown.

Ron and Ginny waited in the hospital room. Then they waited some more. There were no alarms going off.

"It's been five minutes," said Ron, looking at his watch. "That means they got off this floor, doesn't it?"

Ginny shrugged. "Or they could be taking a long time to sneak out."

They each grabbed their brooms and went to stand by the window. From here they could see out onto the street, though no one down there would be able to see them. Not until they actually went out of it. Ron opened the window and stuck his head out to see if they were giving the signal. Neville and Luna each had a brightly coloured umbrella and they were to open them once they got out. Since it wasn't raining, it was the perfect signal, easily visible from a distance.

Unlike in a muggle hospital, the windows opened. There was a stasis charm, so that the polluted outside air wouldn't penetrate the room, but if someone wanted to, they could stick their head out and breathe in that air. A moment later, there were two purple and yellow spotted umbrellas open on the sidewalk beside one another.

"Well that's them free," said Ron. "Now for us." He looked at his sister. "You first."

Ginny mounted her broom and gracefully flew straight out the window.

Ron didn't have time to wonder how he was going to manage the same feat without knocking his elbows or knees because behind her the window slid shut immediately, and an alarm blared.

Ginny turned around and looked at her brother. Panicked, Ron tried to blast through the window but it didn't work. He couldn't use magic and- Ron tried to take a couple of steps away from the window. He was stuck. Lockdown.

Ron had no idea what to do. He tried bashing the window with his broomstick but it didn't give way.

Ron stared at the door, waiting for someone to burst through and catch him. And he waited. And waited. Were there no healers in this hospital? Was Neville wrong about lockdown? Was everyone held captive until some outside party deemed it was safe to move?

He sank to the floor, what was he going to do? To his terrified mind, it seemed as though hours passed and no time at all.

But finally, the door did open. Ron curled into a ball so that there would be less of himself to curse. He did not expect that the person to enter the room would be Neville Longbottom. "Come on, Ron," he said. "I had to stun a Death Eater to get in here."

Ron just marvelled at the picture that Neville Longbottom made. He was never so relieved to see that slightly chubby face more in his life. "What?" he said. "A Death Eater?"

"Hurry up," said Neville, grabbing Ron's arm and dragging him along. "I'll explain later."

Neville had stunned the medi-witch, too. She stared at them with wide, Petrificus Totalus-ed eyes. Ron apologised to her as they went past.

As they went, Neville explained quickly. "Apparently there are no aurors, so Death Eaters were sent to check it out. But they got stuck because they're not aurors. So as soon as they lifted the spell I jinxed them."

"What about your parents?"

"The girls are minding them," said Neville as they hid behind a pot plant as a healer went past. "Only one of us could go."

"And Ginny let you?" said Ron, surprised at his sister.

"She had to," said Neville. "I just took off."

Ron stared at his friend. He was full of surprises.

"It would have been my fault," said Neville, as they started down the stairs as quietly as possible. "I'm the one who made us come here. They're my parents."

"It's not your fault," said Ron.

They had to stop and Neville quickly threw the invisibility cloak over them as a healer rushed up the stairs. They were too large for the cloak to cover them if they were moving, but pressed up against a wall there was just enough. In stops and starts they finally made their way out of the exit of the hospital.

The girls were waiting for them with the Longbottoms halfway down the street. "Thank goodness," said Ginny, grabbing Ron in a hug.

"I knew they'd be alright," said Luna.

"We got the bracelets off," said Ginny. "A severing charm did the trick."

Neville looked a little green at the idea of Ginny anywhere near his parents with a severing charm.

"Great," said Ron. "We'd better go."

They had to walk as Ron was the only one among them who could successfully apparate and they had no idea how to charm a portkey. It stunned Ron to see life going on as usual as they walked down the muggle streets. What was going to happen when Voldemort made himself known? What would happen to all of these people and was it possible for him to save any of them? He'd knock on every door right now and try to explain what was going to happen if he thought any of them would believe him. As it was, each door passed was another family he couldn't do anything to protect. As he looked at Neville supporting his mother, it was a small consolation. There was one family he could help.

x x x

_July 1997_

Neville's parents were quickly settled into the bedroom opposite the one the five of them had been inhabiting. It was perhaps still a little dusty, but neither seemed to mind. Actually, they seemed to enjoy being allowed to sleep in the same bed together. It perked Neville up, too, having them within walking distance, so that he could help them at any moment and not worry. So far they were completely docile and Ron wondered if that was some lingering effect of a permanent treatment tried years ago.

Ginny was in contact with their parents. They were of course, disappointed and upset that they'd chosen not to stay with them, but hadn't yet come to drag them from their residence. It was through a letter from Mr Weasley that they finally found out what Voldemort was planning now that he had essentially seized control of magical Britain.

Anticipating something, though not entirely certain what it was. It was more difficult for them to contact Snape now that he was no longer Voldemort's double agent, so they hadn't heard from him. But they were working on evacuating as many muggles as they could. They'd started with Hermione's parents, and the others who had magical relatives, some of whom had been able to convince their friends. Apparently the French ministry had been quite sympathetic to their plight and they were handling the refugees. Some had refused to leave their homes and their houses but were still trying to help as many people as they could.

By this point the Statute of Secrecy was practically a myth, and muggles had to come up with their own explanations for the magical things that happened around them. It was global warming, or a gas leak, or some new form of firework that had gone horribly wrong. Nano-technology research, they said, was progressing at a much faster speed than anyone had expected.

Meanwhile, leading government figures were being assassinated in ways no one could explain. They royal family were assassinated over dinner. The Prime Minister had mysteriously disappeared. The other politicians were found in various places with no apparent cause of death. The word on the street was that it was some new sort of bug that had infiltrated the Houses of Parliament. They cried terrorism and looked to the Middle East when they should have been looking in their own backyards.

Voldemort was to proclaim himself supreme ruler of the British Isles very soon, and it was going to take more than a little effort to push him out again.

"Right," said Hermione once they'd absorbed the contents of the missive. "I think we'd better get on that plan to stop Voldemort."

Ginny's nose crinkled. "I thought you weren't even sure if you wanted to stop him?"

"I don't want Voldemort to kill anyone," said Hermione. "And he's gone and killed a bunch. I'm just not sure about whether it would be better to destroy the horcruxes, or maybe just use them as a bargaining chip."

"How many do we still have to find?" asked Neville.

"There's Nagini- obviously we can't do anything about that yet. Hufflepuff's cup. And something of Ravenclaw's or Gryffindor's."

"And we have no idea where they are," said Ron.

"Well," said Ginny. "Maybe there's some clue about the next one in the locket." She reached a hand out to her brother. "Hand it over, Ron."

Ron was conditioned to immediately oppose anything his sister said to him, but in this case, he didn't think it would really matter. Ron hadn't touched the thing since he'd taken it from Kingsley, except to move it each time he changed his trousers. He slid the locket out of his pocket and threw it at her. With her Seeker reflexes, Ginny caught it one handed.

"Be careful with that," said Hermione. "Who knows what will come of touching a piece of Voldemort's soul."

Ginny levelled her gaze at Hermione. "I do."

Ron shivered as he recalled his second year at Hogwarts, when Ginny had been taken over by Tom Riddle. He questioned Harry's sanity a little. How could he at all be attracted to the boy who'd been so similar to the one who'd tormented Ginny all year. Ginny, of all of them, should have been having the hardest time with the fact that Harry was dating their enemy, but she seemed unaffected by all of it. That worried Ron, when he had time to worry between worrying about Voldemort and Harry and Hermione and their parents. Oddly, the only person he cared about whom he didn't worry about was Luna. It was difficult to worry about Luna when she had handled everything in her life thus far with so much grace. Ron wished he was a little more like her.

"Hey," said Ginny, who'd been examining the locket. "There's a message inside it." She slid out the fragment of paper and began to read.

As she did, the other four looked at each other with wide eyes.

"It's a fake," said Neville.

"R A B?" said Hermione. "The initials sound familiar."

"Regulus Arcturus Black," said Luna.

"What?" said Ron. "Where did you hear that?"

"I didn't hear it," said Luna. "I read it."

Ginny nodded. "She's right. It's written right on his bedroom door." She got to her feet and the rest of them began to follow.

"You go on ahead," said Hermione.

"Are you sure you don't want me to carry you?" asked Ron. He wasn't the strongest boy his age, but he could lift his girlfriend. Especially, thought Ron, now that the muscle in her legs was deteriorating.

"I'm fine," said Hermione, and she disappeared with a pop.

Ron was surprised. He'd never thought that Hermione might apparate while she couldn't even stand. He went out into the hallway and came across everyone else staring at Regulus Black's room.

Hermione was sitting across the hall from the room, staring at the door. "If Regulus had the locket," said Hermione. "Then it was probably here in this house."

Ron's eyes lit. "Do you think it might still be here?"

"Not with the cleaning we gave this place two years ago," said Ginny.

"She's right," said Hermione. "But we probably saw it when we did. What does it look like?"

"Pretty close to the fake, I'd say," said Ron.

Hermione shut her eyes and tried to remember. "It feels familiar," she said. "I think I did see it."

"Me too," said Ginny. "But I think we threw it out."

"We probably did," said Ron, though he had no recollection of seeing the locket. "But Kreacher might have kept it. He took a bunch of stuff, didn't he?"

"Kreacher?" said Luna.

"The Blacks' house elf," said Hermione.

"Then we have to go back to Hogwarts to talk to him," said Ginny.

"Not necessarily," said Hermione.

x x x

Phineas Nigellus' portrait looked down his nose on the five of them. That in itself wasn't anything particularly unusual. Had the real Phineas Nigellus been standing in front of them, he certainly would have done the same. They'd nominated Luna as their spokesperson. Ginny had thought it was ridiculous since she was _Luna,_ but Phineas Nigellus obviously didn't approve of the Weasleys and Hermione, and Luna was a Ravenclaw.

"Why should I help you?" asked the portrait.

"You don't have to help us," said Luna. "But I think Professor Snape would be interested to know what we're doing here."

"And what are you children doing?" asked Phineas Nigellus.

"Well," said Luna. "We rescued Neville's parents from St Mungo's."

Phineas Nigellus frowned. "I wasn't aware patients required rescuing."

"They've got Wrackspurts," said Luna. "St Mungo's doesn't know what to do with them."

"Luna!" hissed Ginny. "Get to the point."

"We're looking for the house elf," said Luna. "Kreacher. We think he might have something that doesn't belong to him."

"Black house elves are not thieves," said Phineas Nigellus. Then he left his portrait.

"Well that went well," said Ginny.

"You don't know that it didn't," said Neville. "Maybe he's talking to Professor Snape right now."

"Come on Hermione," said Ron. "Let's get you back to bed."

Hermione rolled her eyes and disapparated.

Ron groaned. "You're as bad as Fred and George!" he called, sure that she would hear him from wherever she'd gone.

x x x

Neville shook Ron awake. He'd been reading one of the books in the Black library, and as usual had fallen asleep. "Phineas Nigellus came back," he said. "Snape says we can floo to his office, but we have to go now because the Carrows are out."

That woke Ron up immediately. He stood quickly, grabbing his wand. "Let's go," he said.

Neville looked at him oddly. "Barefoot?" he asked. None of the current occupants of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place cared if Ron went barefoot, but likely Snape would have something to say about visible toenails.

Ron went into the bedroom to fetch his shoes. "Aren't you coming, Hermione?" he asked his girlfriend when he saw her sitting on the bed.

She shook her head. "Can't apparate in Hogwarts, remember?" she said. "I'd only slow you down."

"If you're sure," said Ron. "We could figure something out."

"It's alright," said Hermione. "Just be sure to tell me what Kreacher says. He'd be less likely to talk with me around, anyway. He hates muggle-borns."

"Okay," said Ron, hating to leave her behind.

"Remember that he doesn't have to help you," said Hermione. "So it would probably be best to be nice to him."

It was sound advice. Ron kissed her gently. "We'll be back soon."

Ginny and Luna had gotten a fire started in the main fireplace, and had found leftover floo powder. They each took a pinch and the four of them flooed to the Headmaster's office.

Snape looked each of them over calculatingly. Ron wondered what the man was thinking. He didn't think they could look so different from the last time he'd seen them, so why did his gaze linger?

"Are you well?" he asked, finally, as though it pained him to say it.

It hurt the four of them as much as it did Snape. They weren't used to this. "Fine, sir," said Ron.

"And, Miss Granger?"

"Fine, too," said Ron.

"I don't suppose my telling you how immensely foolish I think your current behaviour is will make you change it."

"No, sir," said Ron.

"Then," said Snape, eyeing one of the hourglasses on his desk. "You have forty-five minutes before you must return to where you came from."

The four of them nodded and left the Headmaster's office. Besides seeing Snape behind Dumbledore's desk, there were few changes in the school. Of course, they hadn't been gone particularly long yet. Ron felt that it would be different when they returned in September.

In the kitchens, Dobby was happy to help them locate Kreacher. The sour house elf scowled at them. "You are not Kreacher's master," he said.

"We know that," said Luna. "But we'd like to talk to you all the same."

Kreacher stared at her. "Who are you?"

"Luna Lovegood," she said, holding out her hand. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

Kreacher eyed her suspiciously. "You are wanting something," he said.

By this point in her life, Luna was used to people ignoring her greetings. She knelt on the ground beside the house elf. "Do you like it here at Hogwarts?" she asked. "I do. But sometimes I just want to go home."

"Kreacher does too," said the elf. "But Kreacher's master made him come."

"I'm sorry about that," said Luna. "I'm sure Harry had no idea how badly you would miss your home."

Catching on to what Luna was trying to do, Ron said, "Harry thinks of Hogwarts as his home."

"Where is Kreacher's master?" asked the elf.

"We aren't sure," said Luna. "Which is why we need your help."

"Kreacher does not want to help master's friends."

"But you want to go home, don't you?" said Luna. "And you can't until Harry tells you that you can. But Harry can't give you any new orders now. Not until he comes back. And when he comes back, he is going to be so thankful that you helped us, that he'll let you come home immediately."

"How does Kreacher know you are not tricking Kreacher," said the elf. "Kreacher is not going to hurt his master."

Ron thought that was the biggest lie the elf had ever told. It was Kreacher's influence that had sent Sirius to his death. But he held his tongue. Diplomacy was most likely to work in this situation, when they couldn't force the elf to do anything.

"We'd never ask you to hurt Harry," said Luna. "Harry is our friend."

"Kreacher cannot be sure."

"Here," said Luna, taking her butterbeer cork necklace from around her neck and giving it to the elf. "This will protect you from nargles."

Ron wasn't sure, but for a split second he thought Kreacher had smiled. "Kreacher will help his master."

That was the best they could do for now. "Do you remember your old master, Regulus Black?" said Ron.

Kreacher's entire demeanour changed as soon as he heard the man's name. "Regulus Black was Kreacher's finest master. It was an honour to serve him. Not like his nasty brother Sirius."

"Well," said Ron. "Before he died he took something of Voldemort's. We need to get it back so that we can destroy it."

"The Dark Lord?" said Kreacher. "Kreacher cannot help."

"We don't need you to do anything," said Ron. "We just want to know where the locket went. The silver one- with a green S on it. You kept it, didn't you?"

"Kreacher tried," said Kreacher. "But master's other friend was coming in and taking it."

"Someone took it?" said Ron.

"That is what Kreacher says."

"Who?" asked Ron, thinking of the Order members who would have been likely to come in and take it. Only one name immediately sprang to mind. "Was it Mundungus Fletcher? It's alright if it was. He's not a friend of Harry's."

"Yes," said Kreacher. "Kreacher wants to punish him."

"We'll see that he gets what's coming to him," said Ron. Fancy stealing from people who trusted you. "Thank you, Kreacher. You've been very helpful. I'll make sure Harry thanks you, too." After all, this was really supposed to be Harry's quest.

"Wait," said Kreacher, when he realised they were leaving. "Won't master's friends stay a little longer?"

Was this some sort of trap? Was Kreacher meant to be distracting them? But from whom? There was no way. No one knew they were here. Ron was just being paranoid.

"I think he's lonely," whispered Neville.

Ron checked his watch. "I guess we could eat something," he said.

"Always thinking with your stomach," said Ginny. "But we could probably use more supplies. Take more food back to the house."

"Are you staying at Kreacher's home?" asked the elf.

"Yes," said Luna. "It's a perfectly lovely house. I can see why you'd want to go back." Only Luna could say that and actually mean it.

Dobby and some of the other house elves, brought the group a snack, as well as a picnic basket full of more food to take with them. They'd remembered what they'd asked for the last time they'd come.

It was odd, eating a meal with Kreacher the elf. But he was less cantankerous, and therefore easier to get along with. There was no way he could have eaten a meal with the elf who'd snarked at Sirius Black every ten seconds. It was obvious, thought Ron, that all the elf had wanted was a little kindness.

It was that thought that had Ron saying, "Is there anything from the house we can bring you? Something that might make you feel more at home?"

Kreacher had shaken his head. "Everything Kreacher wanted was stolen from him."

"We'll get it back," said Ron. The locket, at least. And maybe if they decided not to destroy them, Kreacher could keep it. He could be trusted that much.

x x x

Hearing that Dung had the necklace, there was little they could do but resign themselves to meeting up with Mr and Mrs Weasley and the rest of the order. There was just one thing they had to do at Grimmauld Place first.

Neville was spending the morning with his parents at Ginny's suggestion. She'd scrounged a tray from in the kitchen and prepared breakfast with the intention that Neville would share it with his parents for the morning. Of course, this wasn't a distraction that would last very long so the other four occupants of the house had to quickly and silently move all the bedding from the room and set up the banner they'd secretly been putting together all week.

It wasn't the best decorating job any of them had ever seen, or even participated in, but they were hoping that Neville would realise that it was the thought that counted. And at the foot of the bed, on a tray table, sat the birthday cake. That had been the hardest part to accomplish. None of them were skilled enough at baking, even with some rather ancient cook books to guide them. Neville would have been onto them immediately. So Ginny had snuck out by herself into muggle London, with some hints from Hermione, to buy the birthday cake. Neville's favourite was a plain vanilla sponge, and Ginny had managed to get them to write his name on the top in dark blue icing.

They shut the door to the room and dimmed the lights, waiting for Neville to make his appearance. As soon as the door cracked open, they flicked on the lights and shouted, "Surprise!"

Neville was completely surprised. He seemed to jump out of his skin literally. "I don't believe it," he said, not managing to close his mouth.

Hermione lit the candles on the cake with a wave of her wand and they started singing a Happy Birthday song.

"Make a wish, Neville," said Ginny with a grin.

Neville smiled and blew out the candles. There was cheering and applause and they cut the cake. As they sat around with plates of dessert, Neville said, "Now I see why you didn't want to go to the Order straight away."

"It's your seventeenth," said Ron. "We couldn't let it pass without a party."

"Thank you," said Neville. "It's brilliant. I really wasn't expecting anything." He abandoned his cake, getting up and hugging the other four. "You're amazing."

"We know," said Ron with a smirk. It was easy to be happy for Neville, and with Neville. No one voiced the one thought that had crossed their minds while preparing for the party: this should have been Harry's party, too.

x x x

_August 1997_

Celebration was the farthest thing from the five's minds when they made their way to the Order's newest encampment. They were tired from the walking they'd had to do to get there. It looked like something out of a war zone, and of course after the welcoming hugs, the first thing they were treated to was one very long lecture. It was clear that they weren't going to be able to get away from here whenever they felt like it. While they were out of the loop, Voldemort had declared himself Emperor of the British Isles.

But no matter how jarring it was to suddenly be under adults' rule again, there were definite benefits to their new situation. They no longer had to cook for themselves, and Ron hadn't realised how much he'd missed his mum until she was there fussing over him and Ginny and especially Hermione.

Hermione had brought with her half of the Black family library, and discovered that books hadn't been neglected by the Order, either. The combined library of just about every wizarding family in the Order was set up in one of the tents. There was no apparating within the Order's encampment, but Hermione had been practising her levitation spells and with the help of a cushion, she was entirely self-sufficient.

And of course, Mundungus Fletcher was there.

It was difficult to corner the man. He was a sneaky one, and in general did not like to be cornered. Without even knowing why the five wanted to talk to him, he evaded them almost unconsciously. Finally, they had to resort to luring him into a trap by pretending that they'd discovered some unheard of artefact while hiding at Grimmauld Place.

"Gotcha," said Ron, pointing his wand at the man who was rummaging through his school trunk.

Slowly, Mundungus raised his hands and turned around to face Ron. "So it seems," said the man. It was then that he noticed that he was surrounded. Though Hermione wasn't particularly threatening looking, sitting on her cushion on the floor, her wand was pointed at him all the same. "And what might you be wanting with me?"

"You took something from the Black house," said Ron. "And we need it back."

"I'm sorry," said Mundungus. "My memory is a little hazy. I'm not sure if I did take anything from that particular house."

Ginny sent a quick pinching jinx his way and Dung yelped in an undignified manner.

"Alright," he said. "Tell me what you want. But everything I had has found a new home."

Ron frowned, but it wasn't an entirely unexpected outcome.

"It's a silver locket," said Hermione. "With a green S on it."

Mundungus actually grinned, which didn't bode well for the rest of them. "That particular piece wasn't hard for me to lose," he said.

"Just tell us," said Ron, stabbing his wand in Dung's direction.

"Dolores Umbridge," he said. "I had to let her have it after she caught me. Wouldn't do to have a man like myself in Azkaban."

Umbridge? That was definitely unexpected.

"Thanks Mundungus," said Ginny with a grin that was far too sweet for the circumstances. He put his hands down and relaxed, and in the same second she hit him with her famous bat bogey hex. "You've been ever so helpful."

The man ran out, trying to escape the bat bogeys.

"We're definitely going to have to leave this camp now," said Neville. He didn't like the thought of leaving his parents behind.

Unfortunately, none of the adults agreed with their plan to return to Hogwarts next month, so they weren't going to agree with stealing from Dolores Umbridge. Now that they'd gotten what they wanted, the five of them began planning their escape from the compound.

x x x

Their escape plan this time was far less complicated than that which they'd required to break Mr and Mrs Longbottom out of St Mungo's and therefore stood a better chance of going off without a hitch. This time they'd be leaving Neville's parents behind.

The five of them packed and shrank their belongings. The plan this time was to walk right out the front gate. When Ron and the others had first arrived, they'd been surprised to see Percy Weasley guarding the main gate. It was a recent appointment so Mrs Weasley had never had the time to mention anything about their prodigal son returning to the fold. Ron deduced that he'd been given the boring job because no one else had wanted it. Percy Weasley wasn't exactly a fighter.

The plan wasn't exactly just to walk right out the gate. Ginny would distract Percy while first Ron would carry Hermione past under Harry's invisibility cloak. Then Ron would walk back and return with Luna. Then Luna would walk back and repeat the trip with Neville, and finally Ginny and Neville. It was a far walk away from the camp before there was any cover, so none of them would be doing it twice, but Ron and Neville couldn't share the cloak without a serious exposure risk, so they had to go with each of the girls. They also couldn't use a disillusionment spell to walk past Percy as there were specific wards which detected secrecy spells, and Ron had to carry Hermione because it would also detect any levitation that someone might use to get over Percy's head.

Though it took a few hours, the plan went off without a hitch and the five of them made the long trek back to Grimmauld Place. Though Mrs Weasley sent them a Howler, they didn't have the resources to spare to send someone after them when they would obviously just make the decision to leave again.

x x x

Once there, the priority was teaching Neville how to apparate. It was really the only form of transportation available to them so Ron and Neville would have to be the ones to corner Umbridge and get the locket from her. Hermione refused to let Ron go by himself, and there was no way that he was capable of side-along apparition just yet.

While still at the Order's encampment, they'd learned that Umbridge was one of the few Ministry workers who hadn't been killed or escaped when Voldemort took over. Since they didn't know where she lived, this would be the best and only place to ambush her. They'd also taken a few vials of polyjuice potion from the Order's stores. They hoped that they wouldn't be negatively affecting the war because of that, and Hermione was already working on brewing a new batch to replace it. Of course, it wouldn't actually be done until it was time for them to return to Hogwarts.

While Neville practised his apparition, Ron was grudgingly allowed to perform surveillance under the invisibility cloak. He discovered that Umbridge wore the necklace with her everywhere. She was surrounded by other Ministry workers at all hours. She seemed to be in charge of the place and people popped in and out of her office too often for them to stun her. With that information, Ron decided that the best hairs to take would be that of Umbridge's assistant, and the minister who came in to see her the most often.

Two days after they arrived at Grimmauld Place, with minimal splinchings which Hermione luckily was able to fix, Neville managed to apparate from one floor of the house to another. Just to make sure that he was capable, Hermione and Ron had him apparate several times down the street. Then Neville was ready, though he was terrified that on the longer distance jump he would splinch himself.

Hermione made a copy of the fake locket from what Ron had seen, and the hairs were added to the potions. All that was left was for them potions to be drunk.

"Wait," said Neville, staring at his amber coloured potion. "I can't be the assistant. I can't stop anyone from entering Umbridge's office while you're in there."

"So you want to stun her and swap the necklaces?" said Ron. He'd only been wanting to be the other minister because he was more the same size as the man. His previous experience of polyjuice had taught him that it wasn't as easy to adjust to a strange body as Tonks made it appear.

Neville thought for a moment. "Actually, yes."

Ron looked at Hermione to see if she had any objections. She didn't, so they swapped potions and drank.

"Remember," said Hermione to her disguised friends. "The polyjuice only lasts an hour."

"We'll be back, Hermione," said Ron. "You don't have to worry."

x x x

The first apparition was a success, Ron and Neville successfully arriving outside the Ministry's new headquarters. Ron went in first, under the invisibility cloak to make sure that it wouldn't be suspicious that he just turned up. When Umbridge's assistant went to get something for her, Ron stunned him, and shoved him behind a desk. He felt a little twinge of guilt, but the man was working for Voldemort, he wasn't entirely innocent in this war. He dropped the invisibility cloak with Neville, who would hopefully not need to stun anyone.

Ron went into Umbridge's office, claiming to have forgotten what it was she'd sent him after. She berated him, and Ron saw the twinkle of the necklace around her neck. He was going to enjoy her comeuppance. A moment later, someone that Ron hoped was Neville knocked on the door. It looked like Neville, and he winked at Ron to show that it was him. Ron showed the 'minister' in and went to stand guard outside the door.

For the moment no one else seemed eager to make their way into Umbridge's office. Neville was out before Ron had to distract anyone. They went out separately, but no one stopped them.

"Did you get it?" Ron asked.

Neville smiled as he showed Ron the glint of the locket. "Of course."

x x x

"Does this seem hollow to anyone else?" Ginny asked as they sat around staring at the locket. It was probably their imagination but this one seemed far more malevolent than the fake that Regulus had left. "We had one horcrux at the start of summer, and at the end, we still only have one."

"Of course it's hollow if you look at it that way," said Ron. "But at the start of summer we had none. Now we have one. That isn't so bad."

"We couldn't actually expect that it would be easy to find Voldemort's horcruxes," said Hermione. "They're pieces of his soul. He'd want to protect them more than anything."

"Have we decided what we want to do with it?" asked Neville.

"I've been doing some research," said Hermione.

"No," said Ron. "Pull the other one." He yelped as Hermione cast a stinging hex on his arm.

"I think I've found a way to put the pieces of soul back into Voldemort," said Hermione.

"Is that a good idea?" asked Neville.

"It's no worse than just destroying them," said Hermione. "But there's a really complicated potion and spell, and Voldemort would have to be willing."

"Then we might as well destroy them," said Ginny. "He's never going to agree."

"He might," said Hermione. "Given the right motivation."

"So we're going to blackmail him?" said Ron.

"Harry will convince him," said Luna, with certainty.

"Exactly," said Hermione.

"Well," said Ginny. "We'd better get packing... if we want to make it to King's Cross before the train."

The other four were in agreement. Their summer had been a little disappointing, but in their minds, the war wasn't over yet.

x X X x

A/N: Sorry I don't know how to write Phineas Nigellus Black or Kreacher or Luna or Neville. Or Neville's parents, for that matter. By the way, I don't know why I rescued them, it was just something that had to be done.


	18. Laid Bare

**Time and Again**

**Author's Note:** Bet you never thought you'd be seeing me again!

FYI, I think chapters are going to be shorter after this one until the end of the story. No, that doesn't mean they'll show up sooner.

I'm sorry if this doesn't make sense. I haven't read this or the chapter that comes before it since December. But if you've stuck with this the past couple of years, you're used to that by now, right?

I think I've actually got the rest of the storyline actually sorted this time, so maybe this story will be finished in a year? Lol.

**Chapter 17 - Laid Bare**

_September 1945_

On the first day of the school year, Harry met Abe where the carriages were waiting to take students up to the castle. The red-haired boy was with the other Gryffindor boys in their year.

With Etienne and Mihail back in their own countries, Harry wasn't sure what was in store with regard to their relationships. Harry felt a little awkward after last year's falling out and he wasn't sure whether Abe still wanted to be his friend. But Harry was welcomed into a carriage with them and Caspian said, sort of sheepishly, "We're sorry we gave you such a hard time last year. We'd just never met anyone who was actually gay before."

Harry wasn't sure that was a good enough apology, but it was easier to at least pretend he did.

Greg made a face and coughed to cover a rude comment, but Lev nudged him quiet.

"I'm still dating Tom Riddle," said Harry. "If you thought it would be easier to deal with me now that he's left school."

"We're never going to like Riddle," said Caspian. With good reason, thought Harry. "But we'll deal with it."

"I'm not expecting you to like him," said Harry. It was probably better that they didn't, for their own safety. "So it's a truce then? You don't say anything about my sexuality and I don't say anything about how I think you're bigoted."

Tony flinched.

"Right," said Caspian through gritted teeth.

The carriage halted and they all got out. Sherman- Mihail's girlfriend the Quidditch captain- and Ellen Prewett caught up with them.

"What do you think our chances are?" Tony asked Sherman. Gryffindor had come a close second in Quidditch last year.

"Not great," said Sherman. "Unless there's a second year Seeker wunderkind around."

Seeker? thought Harry. Would it be changing the course of history too much if he played? Tom had bought him a broom over the summer (Harry figured that was a better use of Riddle's money than whatever evil thing he would have spent it on otherwise) and from what Tom said, it was pretty good for this time. Of course it was nothing on Harry's Firebolt. He imagined their faces if his broom had travelled with him from the future.

"Everyone else has the same team as last year, right?" said Lev.

"Unfortunately," said Sherman. "I thought that German Ravenclaw might have gone home but I saw him on the platform."

"Are you and Mihail still going out?" Harry asked, curious.

"For now," said Sherman. "I don't know about being reduced to pen pals."

Harry sympathised. If he could go back to the future and still communicate with this Tom in the past, would he? Would it be better or worse? They would still never see each other again, but there would be Voldemort. Lately, Harry had begun having fantasies about Voldemort. Not sexual ones, though. Harry was far from finding Voldemort's serpentine visage attractive, but he liked to imagine returning to a future where Voldemort was waiting for him because Tom had loved him. A future where Voldemort was Tom and not the parody of a person that Voldemort was. He hated himself for his fantasies.

x x x

It was strange going back to a Hogwarts where your Transfiguration teacher was a war hero. Harry's perception of Dumbledore hadn't changed, but everyone else's had. The thing that struck Harry the most was that Dumbledore had single-handedly ended a war without earning a single scratch. Harry, more scarred than ever, was amazed. Then he wondered if perhaps his scars just weren't visible currently... if this was when he'd gotten the one shaped like the London Underground map.

There had been some talk of Dumbledore taking over the Defense class, but Dumbledore refused, continuing to teach the subject he'd always taught. Harry suspected that he didn't want to be tempted. Professory Merrythought was instead replaced by a spidery man by the name of Ennall, who seemed to have fought in the war against Grindelwald. He spoke with a thick German accent and terrified the first years when he was introduced at the opening feast, by firing off a number of spells the students were expected to defend themselves against. Harry had cast a quick Protego over everyone in his vicinity and that drew a number of looks from the teachers. It was going to be a different year now that he had his wand.

As a challenge, Harry did try out for the Gryffindor Quidditch team, but not even his reflexes were good enough to beat a second year who'd been riding the same broom for most of his life. Harry supposed it was only fair that he not be on the team. All the same, he was glad he'd tried out, and even failed. The other Gryffindor seventh year boys seemed glad to find that they had something more in common.

The six of them were back to sharing a single dorm room again. Caspian guessed that the school thought that two or three boys to a room was too few. Harry thought it was more likely they were trying to force them to get along. It was just the sort of subtle manipulation Dumbledore would appreciate.

Classes were different now that Harry had a wand. Excepting, of course, his lack of ability in Potions. Slughorn had apparently tried to have him removed over the summer because he was underqualified, but Dumbledore had argued that they had no indication that he was qualified for any classes, and that it would not be a good idea to remove him from their watch.

In Charms, Harry managed to impress the teacher and the other boys. Tony paid him the highest compliment when he acknowledged that had Harry had his wand last year, the prank war and the sentiment accompanying it would never have lasted as long. He found himself helping them with their homework and wondered when he'd become such a Hermione. Knowledge was the only thing he would be able to take back to his time, so it was best to stock up.

The biggest difference in classes was in Defense Against the Dark Arts. Their first Transfiguration class had been very odd, but everyone had gotten over it quickly. Dumbledore was still the same man he'd been before. But in Defense, Harry could continue to surprise the other students, and their Professor. Harry had always been naturally gifted in that area and now he could not only show it, but actually had a teacher who wanted to teach him. Sure it was like being taught by Barty Crouch in Mad-Eye Moody's skin, but he wanted them to do more than learn Unforgivables.

After the display in the Great Hall, in their first lesson Harry had warded his desk (remembering that the last time he'd done that Malfoy had managed to ruin his potion and send him here). He'd warned Abe, who in turn warned the others, to ward their desks, too. Greg hadn't and Harry wasn't sure if it was because he couldn't or didn't want to, but he'd ended up smelling like dragon dung for the rest of the week, like most of the others. He still hadn't quite forgiven Harry for that, even though it was his own fault.

Harry and the other boys, and a few who'd been quick enough with a Protego were soon singled out as the top students. Greg wanted to enact his revenge, but couldn't actually accomplish anything. Still, there remained a determined glint in Greg's eye that made Harry think he might succeed one day soon.

x x x

There wasn't much in the Hogwarts library about empathy magic. Harry hadn't had a chance to peruse the Restricted Section but he wasn't sure what there was to say about empathy magic that would be dangerous enough to put it into the Restricted Section. As for the Azimuth-al-Rahman, there were only a few weeks until it was to come to him and Harry could not work it out. He felt so helpless. He hadn't felt so helpless since he'd been starved in a cupboard under the stairs. But this was far worse than that because in his heart Harry had always known that one day Aunt Petunia would release him into the light and give him a scrap to eat. Right now, the only way that Harry had a hope of returning to his own time was as a very old man. That was not what he wanted. He wasn't ready to give up just yet.

Harry was actually starting to miss Ab's company. He couldn't wait for the first Hogsmeade weekend when he'd be allowed out. Without Tom around, Harry hadn't felt the need to indulge in sneaking around. It was strange being at Hogwarts and not thinking about Tom or Voldemort every second of the day. Harry missed Tom, too. But part of him was hoping that he would be swept away when the Azimuth-al-Rahman came around, and Harry didn't want to say goodbye. He wanted to preserve their summer together as his last memory of Tom.

Harry needed someone to help him. He hadn't been truly alone since he'd met Ron and Hermione. Of course, there was the summer after first year when he'd thought they'd abandoned him, which hurt worse than being alone previously ever had. But they hadn't abandoned him, and Harry didn't think they ever would. That was right. He wasn't alone in this. Ron and Hermione, as far away as they were, were going to help him. He could share his research with them, and maybe they couldn't outright help him, but there was always the chance that the potion's effects had to be reversed from their time. They could still help him.

The first chance he got, Harry wrote to them about the Azimuths and everything he'd thought about empathy magic.

x x x

Harry didn't exactly mean to ignore Tom, but he felt like the older teen had so much more free time on his hands. More interesting things to say, even if Harry worried about what he was leaving out. Harry wasn't exactly eloquent and when the entirety of their interactions came down to letters, he always felt like he was letting Tom down. It made him feel guilty, so he'd promise himself that the next letter would be better, and then it took him a long time to respond because he wanted it to be that way.

There was a part of Harry that did want to ignore Tom. He'd never been able to completely break off from the ex-Slytherin before, simply because he was Tom. Now that Tom wasn't always around, Harry's mind could take over the thinking from his heart and his nether regions. But his mind couldn't seem to stay away from Tom, either. Harry found himself smiling to himself when he thought of Tom's eyes. He found himself holding back laughs as he remembered something that Tom had done. If he didn't concern himself with the ramifications of the things that Tom did, Harry found them rather amusing. He couldn't break off from Tom. But he was sure that it should have been what he was doing.

It was the third or fourth week of term before Harry realised that Bole from Slytherin was following him. Harry could think of only one reason why one of Tom's cohort would be tracking his every move as well as the Marauders' Map would. Not long after Harry first noticed him, he confronted Bole by laying in wait around a corner.

"I know what you're doing," said Harry.

Bole sneered at him. "Oh do you?"

"Yes," said Harry. "And you can tell Tom that I'm not seeing someone else and that if he wants to enact some sort of revenge plan then I'm not going to see him anymore."

"Tell him yourself," said Bole. "I'm not your messenger."

"Why tell him myself when you'll do the job for me?" said Harry. "Do you really expect me to believe you aren't going to tell him every single word I've just said to you?"

Bole scowled and walked away. Harry figured Bole had probably been ordered not to hex him.

x x x

When Harry next saw Bole, he was carrying a Howler. Harry thought it rather inelegant of Tom, but he supposed he'd gotten fed up with waiting for Harry's latest letter. He hadn't meant to leave it so long. Why was it so much easier to talk to him in person? What had they even spoken about?

It had Harry questioning his relationship with Tom once again. Was it really only physical attraction?

Harry took the Howler gingerly, amid the stares of the other students passing by. He was sure Tom would love it if everyone heard whatever he had recorded. Harry went into the nearest empty classroom and locked and silenced it.

"I'm very disappointed in you, Evan," said the Howler in Tom's too-refined-for-his-upbringing accent. "Not responding to my letters. I'm beginning to think you don't care about me at all. What's a fellow to think when his paramour can't be arsed to write him a couple of lines about how he's feeling?"

Harry listened as the Howler spoke about Tom's feelings, and it almost felt like Tom was in the same room with him. Harry wondered if it was a regular Howler, or if Tom had somehow imbued it with some of his own essence, like a Horcrux.

Harry felt a yearning to be with Tom. It came so suddenly upon him that he wondered if Tom had cast some sort of spell. But surely any spell would leave him too befuddled to wonder if he was enchanted. It was his own love for Tom. That single feeling that had been brewing inside him for longer than Harry knew.

It was suddenly easy for Harry to think of a million little things that he could have told Tom. How amusing it was to casually drop Tom's name to the Gryffindor boys. How the treacle tart was being served with vanilla ice cream just the way Tom liked it. How every stone in Hogwarts' walls reminded Harry of Tom's face. How ridiculous it was how differently Professor Dumbledore was being treated by the students. How their Defense professor was trying to kill them all while pretending he was teaching them. How Bole and the other Slytherins really weren't as crafty as they thought they were.

Harry was about to put quill to parchment when the Howler said one last thing. "As a result, you leave me no choice. I'm coming to visit you tomorrow afternoon after classes. Don't even think about avoiding me. I'll find you."

Harry was torn between excitement and forboding. As much as he wanted to see Tom, he worried that this was the end.

He wrote to Ron and Hermione one more time, with the results of his Azimuth calculations. It was next week. And though Harry hadn't prepared for it, he half hoped that it was today. So that he wouldn't have to face Tom one last time. Because how was Harry going to keep this from him? How was Harry going to leave him behind?

x x x

Harry waited for Tom in their usual place in the courtyard. He could see other students watching him, but he ignored them. It was a far cry from the first time Tom had kissed him here and cemented their relationship. He didn't have to wait long before Tom approached. Harry didn't even wonder how he'd been allowed into the school. He was Tom, Dark Lord in the making. Who would stop him? Harry would, he knew. But that day wasn't today.

"So," said Tom, crossing his arms over his chest. Harry vaguely noted that the onlookers had dispersed. "Are you going to explain yourself?"

Harry threw his hands up. He had no idea what to say, even though Tom was standing right in front of him. "This," he gestured. "This is why I haven't been sending you letters."

"What?" said Tom. "Are you breaking up with me? Because I have to say that that would not end well for you."

Harry didn't appreciate the threat, but he ignored it. He knew that Tom thought that that would be the way it went. "No, I'm not. I just don't know what to say. I feel like I never know what to say, so how can I write you anything?"

"It doesn't have to be interesting," said Tom, closing the gap between them. Harry was surprised that it was this easy. "I just needed to hear from you."

"I know," said Harry. "It's stupid of me. I just wanted my letters to be perfect. If the only way you're going to hear from me is through letters, I don't want you misunderstanding anything."

"Perhaps there's a better way for us to communicate," said Tom, as though he'd been thinking about the problem for a while. Tom looked around, making sure no one would see what he was doing.

"Is it Dark?" asked Harry. "If it is you know I don't want anything to do with it."

"Oh it's very dark," said Tom, pulling a familiar diary from his robe.

Involuntarily, Harry took a step back.

Tom grinned triumphantly. "I see you know what this is."

"And I don't see how it's going to help us."

"I can cast a spell," said Tom. "Joining my consciousness to this. If you write in it, I'll hear it and be able to communicate through it with you."

Harry shivered. "That sounds like a bad idea. And what if someone else got hold of it?" Like he had when Ginny had tried to get rid of it.

"They won't," said Tom. "I trust you to keep it safe. You're the only one I trust."

"And when I go back to my own time?" said Harry. "I can't take it with me."

Tom thought a moment and cast a spell over the book. "It's yours," he said. "It will find its way back to you."

Thoughts whirled through Harry's mind, each of them something that couldn't be shared with Tom. The diary _had_ made its way back to him. But Voldemort had been so displeased with Lucius for letting it go... when all the time he'd meant for it to come to Harry.

"I can't take it," said Harry.

Tom smiled, seeming to read some of Harry's thoughts. "I've already set the spell. The diary has already come to you, hasn't it? There's no point rejecting it now."

Harry sighed. He took the book from Tom. Partly because he couldn't explain why he wouldn't to Tom. And mostly because he wanted it. Harry wanted a little piece of Tom for himself. He felt terrible about having destroyed it in the future. But given the choice again, he'd give up a piece of Tom's soul for Ginny's life. Not because he loved her that way; no, he only loved Tom that way. But because he could never let Tom win.

"Now," said Tom, taking Harry's hand. "Let's take this somewhere a little more private."

"Wait a second," said Harry, looking into Tom's eyes.

"What now?" said Tom, thinking Harry was about to pick a fight.

"You haven't kissed me hello, yet."

Tom smirked, matching Harry, and leaned in to kiss Harry. Harry sighed into it. If this was his last moment with Tom, he wanted it to last.

x x x

Tom's remaining influence at Hogwarts extended farther than Harry realised. Since Harry had to share a dorm with five other boys, and Tom no longer had a room in the Slytherin dungeon, Harry had expected they'd find privacy in one of the castle's many empty rooms. He was right to an extent. Last week this room near Ravenclaw tower had been empty. But now there was a thick rug on the floor, a fire in the fireplace, and a chaise longue in the centre of the room. It was cleaner than it was last week, too, and Harry knew that must have been the work of Tom's lackeys, whoever they were.

There was a grand view of the lake from the large windows. "I can see why they don't have classes in here anymore," said Harry, drawn to the nearest window.

"Why is that?" asked Tom after he completed the privacy spells.

"How could anyone get any work done when they were looking out at that?"

"Maybe they found a better view inside the room," said Tom, catching Harry's gaze.

Harry blushed. "I love you," said Harry, the words slipping easily off his tongue. He wanted to say it now, worried that he might never get another opportunity.

"Then show me," said Tom.

Harry threw his arms around Tom's neck and they kissed desperately. Harry because this might be their last time together. Tom because he hadn't seen Harry in weeks.

There wasn't enough time, thought Harry. There wasn't enough Tom. Harry wrapped his legs around Tom's hips, knowing the other man could take his weight. He didn't protest when one of Tom's hands slipped under his robe and over the flesh of his arse.

Tom took that as encouragement and walked them over to the chaise, toppling Harry onto his back. Tom's eyes were red with lust and Harry couldn't bring himself to care. What if this was their last time?

They frotted against one another, still fully clothed. Tom started biting Harry's neck and his lips. Never hard enough to break the skin, but still Hard enough to leave bruises. Harry felt about ready to explode before Tom started removing his robe. Harry's fingers fumbled to open the clasp on Tom's robe, but single-mindedness to get it off made his fingers stupid.

"Tom," Harry gasped out, not knowing what else to do.

Their clothes suddenly vanished and they were finally skin to skin. More naked than they'd ever been together. Flesh was slapping against flesh and it was impossible to tell who of them was sweating more. Harry was one penetration away from losing his virginity and he didn't care.

Harry reached for Tom's penis; its length and weight as familiar as his own at this point, though he'd rarely seen it. Tom gasped and threw his head back in pleasure and Harry had the urge to try something new. With Tom's momentary distraction, Harry flipped them, so that Tom was lying on his back. Tom struggled a little, and opened his mouth to protest as Harry pushed his thighs open and Harry settled between them.

Tom wasn't quite hard yet, but that was entirely usual. Tom would usually jerk Harry off before he got hard enough to do the same, but Harry was testing his own stamina today. He stuck out his tongue and licked the side of Tom's dick. It shifted slightly, and Harry repeated the motion on the other side.

Tom's eyes shot open and he stared down at the sight of Harry between his legs. Harry's fingers massaged Tom's balls carefully, and Tom's mouth fell open in surprise. "Evan!" he gasped out. Harry bit him in response. In these moments Harry had forbidden Tom from calling him by his assumed name. It made Harry feel guilty and unlike himself, which was a decidedly unsexy thing.

"Ohh!" cried out Tom. His dick had almost completely come to life, so Harry took the plunge and sucked it into his mouth.

It was long and thick and Harry's gag reflex kicked in before he could take it as far in as he wanted to. Harry resolved to work on that next time, but for now it would do because never before had Tom been so relaxed. Never before had he been so open and responsive to Harry. Never had he let Harry take such control. It turned Harry on more than he had ever imagined.

"Wait," gasped Tom. "I'm going to-" His sentence was wrenched into a scream of pleasure.

Knowing exactly what he was doing, Harry didn't stop. His own thoughts from earlier in the year coming to him. He couldn't sleep with Tom unless he was willing to sleep with Voldemort. And Harry couldn't. He couldn't back out on himself like that.

Tom ejaculated in Harry's mouth and though Harry almost choked on it, he found his orgasm at the same time. Harry collapsed, spineless.

"Why did you do that?" demanded Tom, suddenly furious. "It would have been perfect."

Harry frowned, finding his strength returning to him in the face of Tom's wrath as it always did. "Perfect? Really? For you maybe. Merlin forbid you ever think about anyone but yourself."

"That's what you're doing, isn't it? You don't care what this is doing to me. You don't care how I feel."

"Of course I care how you feel," said Harry. "But I also care how _I_ feel. I care about what doing this makes me feel."

"How could it be wrong?" said Tom. "You said yourself that you love me."

"And do you love me in return?" asked Harry, fixing his gaze on Tom's still red ones.

"You know I can't tell you that I do," said Tom. "I don't know if I believe in love."

"And I don't know if I believe in you," said Harry. "I love a dream."

Tom put his hands on Harry's cheeks and straddled his lap. "How could this be a dream? I am here, before you. Touching you."

"I love a dream," Harry repeated. "A person who doesn't exist. A life I can never have. I don't love you."

Harry felt more than saw Tom draw back emotionally as well as physically. For a split second, Harry thought he might have broken Tom; that he might cry. But Tom sat up straighter and, looking more like Voldemort than Harry had ever seen, Tom said, "You'll regret this. You're going to regret not giving yourself to me. You'll regret not dying with your parents because everything I do now is on you. Every person I kill. Every Muggle's life. Death is on your hands."

The words infuriated Harry. "You can't take responsibility for yourself, can you? I can't believe you're saying this to me just because I won't sleep with you."

"You said it truthfully then," said Tom. "You're not pretending that at some point in the invisible future that you hope never comes you might get over yourself and have sex like a normal teenage boy. You refuse to sleep with me. I've given you everything, and you won't give me this little piece."

"You've given me everything?" said Harry. "You can't love me. You refuse, and for that I refuse."

"That's it then," said Tom. "It's over, isn't it? You won't, and I won't. What hope is there for the future with us?"

Harry hadn't been thinking about it that way. He knew they'd find their way back to each other. They'd had this argument before. Why should this time be different?

"You know what happens now," said Tom. "If this is the end it's on you to stop me. Now."

Harry's wand was in his hand without a conscious thought of where it had been lying the second before. "I could kill you," Harry said, pointing the wand at Tom's throat. "I could say the words and mean it, and you'd let me. You haven't even picked up your wand.

"But it wouldn't stop anything that's already happened to me, and it would make it about me. I won't take responsibility for you, Tom Marvolo Riddle."

Harry stood and began dressing, ready to walk away from Tom forever.

"You can't do it," said Tom, mockingly. "You're all talk and bluster, whoever you are. No action. No substance."

Harry steeled himself and walked away feeling like something else was commanding him to leave. To return to a place where he'd never heard of Tom Riddle. To let this place become nothing more than an echo.

x X X x

_September 1997_

It was difficult hiding Hermione when they got to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. Even wearing the invisibility cloak there was still the chance that anyone could trip over her. It was Neville who had the idea that she could sit on his trunk, and the rest of them would surround her. The rest of them were protected, to an extent, by virtue of their blood, though some of the Death Eaters did eye them suspiciously. It was unrealistic to think that there were no spies on the Order's camp, and likely they'd heard about their group's absence.

Once safely hidden in a compartment, Ron slid Hermione onto his lap, still cloaked. Safety was relative in this somewhat neutral area of the Wizarding World.

"Remember this time last year?" said Hermione. "I couldn't wait to get started on preliminary NEWT work."

"And now we'll be lucky if we even live to see NEWTs," said Ron.

"But since we are here," said Ginny, as the train left the station. "We might as well give any Death Eaters hell."

"And at least we'll be here when Harry gets back," said Hermione.

"That's the only thing I'm looking forward to," said Neville, looking a little sick before he put his battle face on. "So what is the plan for this year? Find artefacts from the Founders' time? How are we supposed to do that when the only person who ever succeeded before us was Voldemort?"

"Well," said Hermione. "We do know where Gryffindor's sword is."

"Which is why we should go after that last," said Ron. "Someone will notice it's missing."

"We might not need the sword," said Hermione. If Ron could see her face, he was sure he'd see that knowing sparkle in her eyes. Even disabled as she was, there was nothing that could get rid of her fearlessness.

"Why not?" asked Neville.

"It's obviously not a Horcrux, or Dumbledore would have noticed. And if we don't destroy them, we won't need something like the sword to do it."

Ginny made a face; the slightest reference to Harry's relationship with Tom Riddle still twisted her stomach into knots. "So because Voldemort's done a number on Harry in the past we have to save his soul?"

"I just think it should be Harry's decision," said Hermione. "We're not murderers. If we aren't going to kill Voldemort, maybe it's worth keeping his soul intact."

"I think you're getting your hopes up," said Ginny. "Voldemort isn't going to magically turn into a nice guy just because he's got a soul. He's still a bigoted murderer who's tortured hundreds of innocent people and terrorised this entire country. Magical and otherwise. Human and otherwise."

"We know that," said Ron, finding himself the peacemaker too often these days. "But it doesn't mean that we can't imprison him the way Dumbledore did Grindelwald."

"Hermione," said Luna, as though she hadn't been following the conversation thus far. "Have you got any Billywig stings?"

The other four swivelled to look at her.

"I don't think so," said Hermione. "What do you want them for?"

"I just thought that might be how you were planning to get into the castle," said Luna.

"My levitating charm should do the trick," said Hermione. "As long as you can keep everyone else out of my path. And sit at the end of the table so I can sit with you during dinner."

"So Neville," said Ron. "You and Ginny should probably go ahead to save us a spot. Luna and I will help Hermione."

"I can do that myself," said Ginny. "You might need Nev's help."

"I hate that I can't walk," said Hermione in a rare moment of self-pity. "I hate putting the rest of you in danger."

Ron squeezed her tightly. "It isn't your fault. We'd be in danger all the same, just because we don't believe what Voldemort does."

x x x

It was strange how much the same Hogwarts remained. There were fewer students with the absence of Muggle-borns, and different teachers, but the castle looked just the way they'd left it. Ron, Neville, Luna and Hermione were among the last to arrive in the Great Hall, to ensure that they wouldn't accidentally bump into anyone else. Luna left them at the Gryffindor table, and found it easier to find a seat at the Ravenclaw table than it would have been this time last year.

They did not have to wait long before Snape addressed them from Dumbledore's old chair before the feast. Ron had difficulty looking at him and not seeing everything. Dumbledore lying dead. Snape having sent the Killing Curse, and through it all, Malfoy, quaking in his boots.

Snape spoke for a long time, detailing the changes and emphasising the correctiveness of the new regime. Most of the same teachers were there, but now Amycus Carrow was teaching Dark Arts and Alecto was teaching Muggle Studies. Snape did not reiterate the regular school rules the way that Dumbledore always did, and Ron wondered if that meant they would no longer apply. Not that he had compunctions about breaking them; he'd just smuggled a Muggle-born into the castle.

It wasn't as bad as Ron's nightmares had detailed. They weren't making them pledge allegiance to Voldemort. He and his friends hadn't been singled out as blood traitors. There was no mandatory pro-Voldemort brainwashing class. The bit about compulsory Muggle Studies taught by a Death Eater was a little suspicious, though. And Snape was doubling up on his Headmaster duties by teaching Potions as well. Voldemort, it seemed, was still committed to education. If Voldemort was going to live forever, Ron supposed, he'd have to have the next generation on his side.

Prefects hadn't been replaced, so it was only Ron and two fifth years leading the students back to their dorms. McGonagall eyed them all sadly, and Ron knew that if they ever needed anything, they could count on her. Neville was last up, with Hermione, and then they held a secret meeting in the seventh year boys dorm. Ron, Neville, Seamus, Ginny, Hermione, and Lavender. No one else could be trusted.

"Our aim," said Ron, leaving out the part about Horcruxes, Voldemort's soul, and Harry's relationship with him in the past. "Is to spread morale. Let everyone know we haven't been defeated yet."

"That Harry's still alive," said Hermione. "And ready to take on Voldemort."

"We're starting a revolution," said Ginny. "We aren't going to stand for Death Eater propaganda within these walls. They tried to stop us before, but we stood against them and we won. This is our territory. They aren't going to take it from us."

"So Harry is alive, then," said Lavender, seeming to draw hope from that statement. It was a good sign, but would have to stand up to the test.

"Yes," said Hermione. "He just can't come back here yet."

"Is he in a coma?" asked Seamus.

"Sort of," said Ron. "It's because of that potions accident, but you'd better leave that part out when you're telling everyone else."

"Right," said Seamus. "We wouldn't be Gryffindors if we let everyone walk all over us."

"Agreed," said Lavender, looking at Ron admiringly.

Hermione grabbed his elbow tightly. "Then it's settled," she said. "The Battle for Hogwarts has begun."

x x x

At breakfast the next morning, the food was as good as ever and the students received their new schedules. They'd left Hermione in the library, promising to bring food up to her later.

"We have Muggle Studies first," Ron said to Neville.

Neville shuddered. "I am not looking forward to that."

And that was the right attitude to be had, thought Ron, as the crazy Death Eater witch brought up pictures of Muggles from centuries past and started explaining how despite wizards having evolved into a superior specimen, Muggles were little more than cavemen.

Their class was a combined Gryffindor/Slytherin one, and Crabbe and Goyle seemed to find everything Alecto Carrow said absolutely hilarious. It didn't help that the Slytherins outnumbered them. The only one of them who didn't look like he was buying into it was Draco Malfoy. In fact, he looked a little green. If Hermione were there she might have noticed that he was also looking thinner and more tired than even last year.

Alecto moved on to pictures of notable Muggles in the world today. "Even the great Harry Potter's Muggle relatives were nothing more than worthless pigs."

There, projected from the witch's wand was a picture of the three Dursleys, naked and chain in some sort of cell. Ron burned with indignation and shame because all summer long he'd never wondered about Harry's relatives. Never thought about what happened after the Ministry visited them.

"Muggles are incapable of those feelings we wizards and witches think are commonplace. It's really a kindness to them to kill them. To put them out of their misery."

Ron had had enough. He stood. "Expelliarmus!" he shouted, taking the so-called teacher's wand away from her, the image disappearing with it. "Even the worst Muggle has more feelings than you do. You talk about kindness but you don't have a speck of empathy or compassion. If you did you'd realise that they were exactly the same as us. Except instead of magic they use eckletricity."

Alecto stalked toward him and snatched her wand from his fingers. Her eyes flashed dangerously. "You're a Weasley, I suppose."

"Ronald Weasley," he said, wanting her to know exactly who she was dealing with.

"As a Weasley," she said. "You can't be expected to know any better. But one more word out of you and you'll be the first to experience the new disciplinary system."

Since Ron only needed one more word, he chose carefully. "Silencio."

Alecto silently screamed at him.

Ron turned to Neville. "I think class is over." They left, followed closely by the rest of the Gryffindors before anyone could stop them.

"That won't go unpunished," said Lavender, pale-faced.

"They aren't going to kill me," said Ron. "It'd take a lot more than that before they spill even the pure-blood of a Weasley. Short of that, I can take whatever they dish out." In truth, Ron wasn't sure if he would be able to withstand torture, but he wasn't going to let that stop him for standing up to the Death Eaters.

x x x

They had their first Dark Arts class that afternoon. Over lunch, Hermione had worried that Ron was going to be punished sooner rather than later. The Death Eaters couldn't chance a rebellion starting so early, so they'd try to silence it as quickly as possible. Ron felt like he was ready to take it. Whatever it happened to be.

They considered skipping Dark Arts and suffering an additional punishment for that, but in the end decided that there was no better defense against it than to learn about it.

"Now," said Amycus Carrow, locking the door behind Seamus, the last student to enter the room. "I think it best we start simple, with a refresher in the Unforgivables."

Of course, thought Ron. Just like the last time this class was taught by a Death Eater. He didn't count Snape, though technically he was one.

"I hope that soon we'll have some better subjects to practise these on." Ron shuddered, thinking Carrow meant for them to practise on Muggles. "For today, we shall have to have a volunteer."

As one, the Slytherins turned to the Gryffindor side of the room. All their classes were with the Slytherins this year, it seemed. It also seemed as though the Slytherins had had advance warning that this was happening.

Carrow focused his gaze on Ron. "Weasley. Front and centre."

Ron wondered if it would be worth it to run. No, he decided. If he did this right, Carrow wouldn't derive any pleasure from it. Ron stood, bringing his wand with him.

"You won't be needing that," said Carrow.

Ron rolled his eyes. "I suppose you think I'm just going to stand here and take it."

Amycus smirked. "That wouldn't be much fun." Teaching robes or not, this man was still a Death Eater who took great pleasure in the suffering of others.

Carrow cast, trying to take Ron's wand from him. Ron's quick Protego stopped that, but he was unprepared when Carrow immediately switched to the Cruciatus Curse.

It was a million times worse than the worst pain he'd ever felt. Insistent and persistent. Some disconnected part of Ron wondered if it was at all possible to build up an immunity to the Cruciatus, or if it was always a million times worse than the last time.

Ron heard Amycus addressing the class, but couldn't comprehend though the pain. He resisted the urge to bite his tongue and clenched his teeth together as his body shook uncontrollably. But Ron couldn't hold on forever and cried out. It was loud and long enough that Carrow couldn't continue speaking. He cancelled the spell.

Ron flopped onto the floor grateful for the coolness of the stone seeping through his robes. He hadn't noticed before, but he was absolutely covered in sweat. And his eyes felt swollen and puffed. He was sure the Slytherins got a kick out of that. But it didn't matter how he behaved when under the spell. It was important how he behaved now, so, though it hurt him, Ron made his way slowly to his feet. At least he still had his wand.

"Now who would like to give it a shot?" asked Amycus, obviously directing the question at the Slytherin side of the room.

Ron was disgusted at the way Crabbe and Goyle volunteered so easily. No way, he thought. It was one thing for an experienced Death Eater to cast on him. He was not going to let Crabbe or Goyle, dumb enough not to question cakes found lying about, get the better of him. Wordlessly, he expelliarmused them, thanking Snape that he was able to do that much, aching as he was.

Amycus was in his face immediately, though Ron was a gratified to discover he was an inch or two taller than the man. "Those don't belong to you. Return them at once."

Gingerly, Ron stepped forward to deposit the wands on their owners' desks. Then he sank down into his seat.

"I didn't say we were finished, Weasley," said Amycus.

Ron gritted his teeth and prepared to stand and be tortured once again.

To Ron's surprise, Neville stood between Ron and the Death Eater. "No," said Neville, looking more serious than the night they'd rescued his parents.

"Are you volunteering to take his place, Longbottom?"

"That's exactly what I'm doing," said Neville. His voice didn't waver, though his ankles shook.

"No!" said Ron, surprised he could speak after the screaming he'd done. This was his punishment for Muggle Studies. He couldn't let Neville take it. "I'll do it."

Carrow looked disgusted. "Sit down or you'll both feel something worse." Neville sat down.

Ron thanked him with a pat on his shoulder. Neville returned the gesture.

Carrow continued his lecture on the subject without further demonstration.

"Thanks Nev," said Ron after it was over.

"Don't mention it," said Neville. "You'd have done the same for me."

"Really, Nev," said Ron. "Are you alright? I remember you back in fourth year."

"I'm okay," said Neville. "Getting used to it, I guess."

There was nothing Ron could say to that that would improve the situation. "We're skipping the next class. No point in that."

"Yeah," said Neville. "We'll run the DA instead."

Ron grinned. "We'll need it more than ever this year."

x x x

After dinner, Ron, Ginny, Neville and Luna made their way to the Room of Requirement. Hermione was already waiting for them, sitting in a very comfortable looking armchair. It was the homiest room any of them could imagine, like the Gryffindor Common Room or the Burrow, not entirely Muggle, not entirely magical.

"I never want to go back out there," declared Ginny dramatically flopping onto one of the couches.

"You'd die rather quickly without food," said Ron.

"Then wake me when the war's over," said Ginny.

"I thought it was," said Luna. "Voldemort won."

None of them had spoken of this in those terms before.

"It's not over yet," said Ron. "Not until we've stopped fighting. And definitely not until Harry's back."

"Speaking of Harry," said Hermione, looking up as an owl dropped a letter.

Ron snatched the letter up immediately, reading it over first. "He spent the summer at the Hog's Head," said Ron, paraphrasing. "And it sounds like he wants to chuck Riddle."

"Good riddance," said Ginny, as Hermione started reading the letter.

"I wouldn't get your hopes up," said the brunette witch. "It sounds like he's still in love with him." Harry had never professed to love Tom Riddle in his letters, but Hermione could read between the lines. Harry wouldn't be involved with Riddle at all if he weren't in love. Only love could make someone behave so stupidly.

"Give me that," said Ginny, snatching the letter from Hermione.

Hermione snatched it back before Ginny could read a line. "It's not addressed to you."

That only made Ginny more curious about its contents. "What else does it say?"

"He's made up with the other boys in his year because he's sharing a dorm with them."

"With Great-Uncle Abraham," said Ron. "If Harry had been patient they would have met at the wedding." But even he and Ginny hadn't been to the wedding. Bill had mentioned that it was a very small ceremony.

"He's getting on better than we are," said Neville. "The revolution's over. Voldemort's wars haven't even started yet."

"Slughorn's teaching potions because he's still alive," said Hermione.

"No Death Eater teachers because there's no such thing," said Ron.

"No Dark Arts classes," said Neville.

"And he's the lead in an epic romance story," said Luna.

"And vintage robes not yet vintage," said Ginny, ignoring Luna's comment. "I wonder if he can bring any back."

"I doubt it," said Hermione. She was still reading the end of Harry's letter where he explained what he'd researched over the summer. The cogs in her brain were turning because something about his calculations seemed off.

"Good," said Ron. "I hate old robes." Having rarely had a new one in his life, he couldn't possibly like them.

"So," said Hermione, tucking the letter away. "We're resurrecting the DA, right?"

Everyone made a noise of agreement.

"It won't be like last year," said Hermione. "It will be like the year before. Does everyone still have their Galleons?"

The girls knew where theirs were, Ron wasn't sure, and Neville had his on him.

"How are we going to start it?" asked Ron. "We can't exactly march down to the Hog's Head again."

"Start a rumour," said Hermione. "And activate the Galleons. We'll get to the younger years later. If we can trust them."

"No Slytherins," said Ron.

"Well only the original DA have coins," said Hermione. "But you're right. I didn't start to trust the ones we had last year."

"Malfoy wasn't so bad by the end," said Neville, loyally.

"And then we found out he'd been trying to kill Dumbledore, and did kill Slughorn," said Ron. He yawned. "We'd better go. No sense arousing anyone's suspicions before we've even started."

"And I don't even want to imagine what sort of punishment being out after curfew will cost us," said Ginny.

"I'm going to stay here," said Hermione. "If we don't want someone else getting into the room, the best way is to have someone here, willing them out. If no one else, Crabbe and Goyle know how to get in. And I really don't trust them."

Neville let out an inappropriate bark of laughter.

"What's so funny?" asked Ginny.

"I was just imagining their faces after Ron took their wands from them in Dark Arts."

"I can't believe they thought they could just cast an Unforgivable on you," said Hermione, fire in her eyes.

"Crabbe and Goyle are the least of our problems," said Ron. "No point worrying about them."

Hermione hugged Ron. "I'm so proud of you," she whispered into his ear, then kissed him.

"Enough of that," said Ginny impatiently. "Let's get going."

Ron laughed and smoothed back a strand of Hermione's hair. "Be careful."

"You're the one who should be careful," said Hermione. "You're the one taking all the risks."

"That's you," said Ron. "If they find you-" He couldn't finish his sentence. "If they catch me, at least at the end I'll still be alive."

Ginny grabbed the back of Ron's shirt. "Come on," she said. "Hermione will still be here when you get back."

x x x

It was as though that was the last quiet moment the five of them had to themselves before the nightmare began. Ron and the others weren't going to take Death Eater rule, but the Death Eaters weren't going to take student rebellion, either.

In three weeks, they only managed two DA meetings. The first was hugely successful. Too successful, in fact, because somehow someone let it slip in front of someone less than trustworthy. The second meeting was abandoned because there were too many Death Eaters in the halls. The third time they tried to meet, they managed, but everyone who attended was so on edge they couldn't concentrate on their spellwork.

It was the rumours, more than what they actually suffered that got to them. Hannah Abbott had been at the first meeting, but had disappeared after that. The rest of the DA seemed to think that she'd been tortured into giving away the times and locations of the meetings, but no one could confirm this. Personally, Hermione thought her family had somehow managed to pull her from Hogwarts, the way they had the year before.

Snape never divulged the secret of the Room, but the Death Eaters seemed to be aware, all the same. It was only Hermione's constant presence within it that allowed them to have meetings at all. Snape did try to help them, as often as he could. For the most part he pretended to never see them. When he was with the Carrows, and something happened to require punishment, Snape always took it upon himself to dole out the punishment. And it was never anything worse than anything they would have endured before the beginning of Voldemort's regime, though they all took care to pretend it had been far worse than that.

They spent a lot of time being punished. Ron didn't think he could remember a day he hadn't suffered through the Cruciatus. Thankfully, the Death Eaters hadn't thought to become more creative. Hermione thought it might be because they didn't want Ron's parents and the rest of the Order to discover that they were mistreating their children. With no physical evidence, they could plausibly deny everything. The two sides were maintaining a facade of peaceful resistance. There hadn't been an outright battle since the one that had taken the Ministry. Or at least, not one they heard about.

The letters that Ron and Ginny received from their parents always seemed heavily censored. It made Ron feel violated, to think that Death Eaters were reading his mail, but it would be naive to think that they weren't. The slightest clue could kill their parents, and any sliver of rebellion remaining.

The Carrows liked to punish the students together. Usually, instead of punishing Ron when he said something out of turn or refused to participate in whatever they'd cooked up, they would say that it was Neville who'd been goading him and punish him instead. Ron might have gotten up in arms about it, but he was often punished for things that Neville had done, so it evened out.

What the Carrows and the other Death Eaters who roamed the school as 'security' didn't seem to realise was that every time they tortured their students, it only hardened their resolve against them. At any time, they knew that the curses would end. They'd be allowed to return to their dorms, and tomorrow they'd have to wake up and return to their classes.

The problem was that it left little time for socialising. It was difficult for Ron to drag himself up the stairs to the Room of Requirement when he'd just spent hours quivering, screaming and sweating. He rarely had the opportunity to seek comfort from Hermione, and she was driving herself spare, occupied with research with no hope of action. Even Harry's second letter did nothing to calm her. She was going stir crazy.

x x x

It shouldn't have come as a surprise to Ron when one day, he, Ginny, Neville and Luna were dragged from the classroom, and forced to sit in rooms by themselves for hours, with no explanation. It shouldn't have come as a surprise when the Carrows came in, with some Death Eaters for company, and said, "Tell us where you're hiding the mudblood." Ron should have had a spell handy. A backup plan. An escape route. Anything to stop them from keeping him, and possibly discovering Hermione in the meantime. Ron still had his wand, but there was some sort of ward over the entire room that made it useless.

This was torture: mental, physical and emotional. A wand that didn't work. Kept in an empty room with no hope of keeping track of the time. A glow in the corner prevented them from sleeping, if they could have managed it on the rough stone floor. There was a bucket in the corner for them to relieve themselves, but it was never emptied so the stench permeated the room. Except at random (or were they regular?) intervals when an interrogator would enter and demand to know the answer to the question.

Strangely, it was the constant repetition of the question that allowed Ron to refrain from answering it. The words had lost all meaning. What was a mudblood? Did any place but here truly exist? And during his more lucid moments, Ron knew that they hadn't gotten the answer from anyone else because he was still here. They hadn't killed him. Ron was sure he would have starved, but Dobby brought him food unbeknownst to the Carrows, who thought the single glass of water they gave them during interrogation was keeping them alive.

Finally, when who knew how many days had passed, they were released. "To draw her out," said Alecto Carrow to her brother confidentially. But Ron could see the nervousness in Amycus' eyes. This was a last ditch effort. Voldemort was coming to deal with the problem himself. And he was not going to be pleased.

The five of them sat in a huddle in a hallway, side by side, relishing physical comfort from each other, not bothering to make the journey to somewhere more private. Why bother when they had no need to say anything? They'd won a battle, but the war wasn't over yet. Passing students looked at them oddly. Some, excited to see them still alive, some obviously contemptuous.

Eventually Neville stood up. "We're setting a bad example," he said, and he reached out a hand to Luna to help her up. The Weasleys followed suit.

"You can sleep in my room tonight," Ginny said to Luna, tucking her arm around her. "We'll sneak into the prefects' bathroom and I'll help you comb out your hair."

But before that could happen, a bunch of Slytherins came past. "All students are to assemble on the front lawn," they said.

Briefly they considered ignoring the summons, but it wasn't worth the effort. Weak as they were, the four of them were the last to arrive, and arranged themselves on the ends of the lines that had formed.

Snape was standing at the front, in front of the lake, conversing with Wormtail. Death Eaters were at the ends of the rows, monitoring all the students. Lucius Malfoy was standing nearest them. The Carrows were counting, to make sure that everyone was present.

Then, with the pop of Apparition, Voldemort was there. Ron couldn't hold back his gasp of surprise. No one was supposed to be able to Apparate within Hogwarts. Of course he was Voldemort, but this must have been a recent development. The Order needed to know about this.

Voldemort sneered at Snape, then reprimanded the Carrows. He was too far away for Ron to hear what he had to say, but he assumed it was something along the lines of "Stupid Carrows, why do I have to do everything myself?".

Voldemort zeroed in on Ron and his friends, stalking toward them. "Homenum revelio," he said. Voldemort turned his eyes to the empty space beside Ron.

Ron snapped his head to look at it. Hermione wouldn't, would she? She wouldn't have come out here when this was obviously a trap to draw her out.

Voldemort was two steps away from him before Ron could think about it. Voldemort reached out a hand and snatched the invisibility cloak right off Hermione. Only Voldemort would have been able to cast that spell amongst all these people and find the one he was looking for. The one he couldn't see.

Voldemort seemed completely indifferent. There was no trace of amusement on Voldemort's features. He didn't even seem angry. Certainly not at Hermione. His anger was directed at the Carrows. He simply lifted his wand, and before Ron could do anything, said, "Avada Kedavra."

x X X x

A/N: There you go. I'd call that a cliffhanger, but I don't think anyone actually cares what happens to Hermione. It's also the last Ron and Hermione bit. You might care about that.


	19. Reunion

**Time and Again**

**Author's Note: **Happy anniversary to me! And to you, too, I suppose, since you get a chapter. And an entirely new H/D fic. (It's called The Spare Wand.)

If you had a hard time finding this fic, it's because I moved it to Harry/Voldemort rather than Harry/Tom R Jr. Tell your friends.

Parts of this chapter were written almost three years ago.

**Chapter 18 - Reunion**

_September 1945_

Harry was dreading, and looking forward to the coming weekend. Dreading leaving, looking forward to it. Mostly he was terrified that he had missed something or screwed up his calculations somehow. The Azimuth was coming, and what if it killed him? Now that it was so close Harry's mind was working overtime, convincing him that there was something terrible that was about to happen. That he should have brewed a potion or something. Anything.

In an attempt to calm himself, he'd retreated to the library and had absolutely no intention of leaving it until he discovered something. Harry bit his nails as he turned pages. Not stopping when he accidentally tore through and made his fingers bleed. He only stopped to heal it when the blood obscured a word. It didn't even hurt.

Abe over to him, and lost as he was, Harry thought it was Ron. "Hey mate," Harry said.

But Abe's accent was different, and he had no idea what Harry was up to. "Library's closing in a sec. We can walk back to the dorm together."

"Sorry," said Harry. "I need to find something."

Abe eyed him curiously. "We don't have any essays due. What are you researching? You don't even take Arithmancy."

"Personal project," said Harry.

"Is this about Riddle?" asked Abe.

"What?" said Harry, looking up at Abe for the first time. "This has nothing to do with him." He just wanted to make sure that he wasn't going to kill himself by not having done something by this weekend.

"You've been like this ever since you met up with him on Sunday."

"Oh," said Harry. There was an ache in his heart. That was the last time he was going to see Tom. He was sure of it now. And... they hadn't left it amicably. Not that Tom could be amicable. Because Harry was sure that he loved him. Harry sighed.

"See," said Abe. "I know that sigh. You're all worked up over the guy."

"You're great, you know that, Abe?" said Harry.

"Sure," he said with a cocky grin. "But I don't swing that way."

Harry laughed. They were silent for a moment. "Tom and I might have hit a rough patch," he said. "But it's still him."

"Then what are you moping around for?" asked Abe. "Just get him."

Yes, Harry thought. He wouldn't let that be the last time he saw Tom. He'd explain. Tell him he was leaving. Tell him- Tell him, what? To wait for him? It was obvious that Tom wasn't going to do that. He wasn't going to hibernate until Harry was this age and they could be together. What did it matter if they left on a good note or a bad one?

It mattered to Harry. That's what. He didn't want his last moment with Tom to be a stupid argument. Maybe he wasn't sentimental enough to want it to be romantic. A smile. That's all Harry wanted. For Tom to smile at him one last time.

Harry stood, and swept all the books into his bag. "I have to go," he said to Abe. He had to go now. Before the Azimuth.

"Go?" said Abe. "Curfew's in ten minutes."

Harry shrugged, already halfway across the room. "Cover for me." he said, and he ran straight toward the witch that would lead him out of Hogwarts, to Hogsmeade, and Tom.

He stopped as his bag suddenly disappeared, along with his clothing and his glasses. "Very funny, Abe," he called, though he couldn't see the boy. He took a step and felt his wand beneath his foot. He picked it up.

"Look I know I shouldn't be leaving the castle in the middle of the night but isn't this a bit extreme?" called Harry. Then again, they'd done far worse to one another during last year's prank war.

He sighed and turned to make his way back to the dorm. And stopped. Streaming in through the nearest window was not moonlight, but sunlight. It was daytime. Harry felt like an idiot for not putting it together immediately. He was back in his own time. He paused for a moment to stare out the window. Was this really his time? It looked different somehow. Harry couldn't put his finger on it. Perhaps he'd just become used to 1945.

Harry paused. It was the middle of the day. Where was everyone? The open doors to classrooms showed they were empty, and judging by the sun's position in the sky, it was late afternoon, not exactly a mealtime.

Harry started back toward Gryffindor Tower, deciding that clothing was his number one priority. The absence of people worried him. There were fewer portraits hanging on the walls. Those that were occupied ignored him. He was sure the Hogwarts he remembered would have been filled with gossiping portraits if they'd seen a student wandering around naked.

He stopped at the foot of a staircase. Were those scorch marks? Something was very wrong here. Harry pondered the ramifications of his absence. Everything at Hogwarts had seemed fine when he left. But if Voldemort had heard he was gone... what was to stop him? Harry breathed a relieved sigh as he remembered. Dumbledore. Dumbledore wouldn't let him take over the school.

It was probably still summer. That would explain it. Even if it felt like it was well right into autumn. Harry turned his head to look out the window, to reassure himself with the colour of the foliage. So that's where everyone was.

It looked like half the school was out there. Snape out the front. The rest of the teachers to the side and... were those Death Eaters? Harry squinted, but he didn't have his glasses, so he couldn't be sure. There was only one way to find out... Harry sighed, and grabbed an ancient rug to use as a loincloth. That would do for now. He didn't want to catch anyone's attention anyway. He just wanted to find out what was going on, then maybe pull Ron aside as soon as he could.

He pushed the castle's front door open a crack. He shivered. Tom was here. Harry bit his tongue, angry with himself. Tom wasn't here. _Voldemort_ was. Confused as he was, Harry still knew that Voldemort was not supposed to be here and that this was not a good sign.

He watched Voldemort walk closer to a man who looked like Lucius Malfoy. There were a couple of redheads beside him, and Harry figured it was Ron and Ginny. And suddenly Hermione was there, seemingly sitting on a cushion floating in mid-air, and all Harry could think was, Not Good. He started to run, not caring that he had to drop the rug to gain speed.

"Avada Kedavra," said Voldemort.

"Protego!" Harry shouted, and his spell intercepted Voldemort's. The priori incantatem started, but Harry stopped it quickly, before anyone could see what the wand had last been used for.

He stood protectively in front of Hermione, throwing a sheepish look at Ron's incredulous gaze. Ron's bruised, incredulous gaze.

"Harry!" said Luna, surprising him. He hadn't noticed that she was standing with them.

Voldemort looked at him with more than just surprise on his face. There was an undisguised lust in his cold red eyes that Harry was unprepared for. It was a very Tom-like expression and in that moment, Harry knew that he would have no trouble losing his virginity to Lord Voldemort, no matter how repulsive that thought would have been a year ago.

"Evan?" questioned Voldemort. He did a double take, then laughed humourlessly. "Of course. I should have known where you were."

Suddenly, Harry was afraid. He hadn't exactly left things off neatly. It was what he'd been trying to fix when he'd been transported here. He wondered if it was too much to hope that Voldemort had forgotten... or at least forgiven. Definitely too much to hope for.

Voldemort really must have been a great Legilimens if his next words were anything to go by. "There is only one way I could ever forgive you, _Harry_." Voldemort purred his name, and an image entered Harry's mind of what exactly Voldemort would want from Harry. It made his cock twitch.

Harry was aware that a hundred people could see his arousal. How he wished this really was just one of Abe's pranks. He'd wake up and find himself in the library in the past, fully clothed. But Harry's luck had never been that good.

Voldemort seemed to remember their audience at the same time because he immediately wrapped himself and his robe around Harry and apparated them both away. Either that, thought Harry in transit, or he was just a horny bastard.

x x x

Without their leader, and with the Light side's saviour no longer missing, the Death Eaters were unsure about what to do.

"I think you should just let us go," said Hermione.

"Why would we listen to anything you have to say, mudblood?" asked Lucius. "The Dark Lord was about to kill you. I don't think he'd mind if I finished his work."

"Actually," said Hermione, feigning indifference by examining her fingernails. "I think he would think it awfully presumptuous of you, and frankly I don't think the Dark Lord would be very pleased if anything happened to me or my friends."

Lucius' fingers clenched tighter over his wand. It didn't look like the one he usually carried.

"I don't think he and Harry will be back any time soon," she added.

Ron made a face. "Thanks a lot, Hermione. I've been trying to avoid that image for a year now." He covered his ears as though it would save him from the onslaught of images his imagination tried to bring forth.

"Why would you know the inner workings of our Lord's mind better than his Death Eaters?" asked Lucius.

"I didn't say that," Hermione put in.

How Lucius _hated _mudbloods. "That's the problem with mudbloods. They never say what they mean."

Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Luna and Neville struggled not to laugh. But Ron couldn't stop himself from remarking, "Because that's really worth starting a war over."

Lucius lifted his wand and Ron found his mouth forced shut.

"Now," said Lucius to Hermione, ignoring the fact that he was deigning to speak to someone so beneath himself. "What do you know?"

"What makes you think I'll tell you?" said Hermione. "You've been keeping my friends locked up for a week and none of them have told you anything. What makes you think I'm any different?"

"For one," began Lucius. "You've been forthcoming so far. And for another, the more you cooperate, the less likely I am to finish what my Lord started."

"Fair enough," said Hermione, maintaining her teasing tone. This morning had seemed to bleak, but now that Harry was back, Hermione felt like she could do anything. Take on Lucius Malfoy despite being crippled. Stand up to Voldemort. Perhaps even literally. "Has the Dark Lord mentioned Evan James to you?"

"How do you know of that name?"

"It's a filthy Muggle name, isn't it?"

"And you know who he is," said Lucius, putting it together.

"And now Voldemort does too," said Ginny.

"Who?" Lucius thought for a moment. "Potter? What was that man thinking?"

"Hey," said Ginny. "He's not such a bad catch. His eyes-"

"Are a fresh pickled toad green," finished Ron, finding his mouth suddenly free.

Ginny blushed as red as her hair. "Be quiet, Ronald." She turned on Lucius. "Can't you do a simple mouth-locking charm?" Ginny found she could say no more, and neither could her brother.

It began to rain, quickly drenching the student and their guards. Snape began ordering those nearest him inside. Hermione and the others went to follow, but Lucius stopped them. "Not you," he said. "We're going to see the Dark Lord."

Ron was still unable to speak, but his eyes were quite expressive. Hermione was intrigued, Ginny was disgusted, Neville was reluctant and Luna was Luna. "I'll go instead of Ron," she volunteered.

"You are all going," Lucius said.

Neville bit his tongue. Ron prepared himself by covering his ears again. The girls sighed.

"You do know what they'll be doing, right?" said Hermione. While she didn't expect a Malfoy to ever show an emotion other than anger, Lucius seemed a little too flippant. He'd be lucky if the Dark Lord cursed his balls off.

"Of course," Lucius huffed. "Here's the portkey." He pulled out a gold pocket watch. The teens each placed a finger on it. Lucius had to forcibly pull one of Ron's hands from his ear. Then he triggered the activation spell.

Ron covered his ears and shut his eyes as soon as he felt solid ground beneath his feet again. The rest peered around the room they were in curiously. It was a sparsely furnished receiving room, though its walls were decorated in painted murals of Malfoy-like wizards doing battle against various magical creatures. In one corner, a blond triumphantly stabbed a unicorn. The girls turned their faces away in disgust.

"Nice place," said Hermione, sarcasm lacing her tone.

"Of course it is," said Malfoy. "Generations of Malfoys have imbued it with their magic." Before they could comment on that, Lucius swept out of the room.

They followed him hesitantly, wondering if this was the moment to turn back.

Eventually, they found the room where Harry and Voldemort were. The door and walls were thick enough that the words were muffled, but the voices were instantly recognisable. The tone was more an old couple's squabble than Harry Potter's last stand.

"Thank Merlin," said Neville.

Lucius gave him an odd look. "You're pleased that they're arguing?"

Even Neville thought perhaps Lucius was naive. "Of course," he said.

Ignoring that, Lucius opened the door and observed the scene he had expected to walk in on. Harry Potter was still naked, and chained to the wall. The Dark Lord stood before him, wand raised, Harry's tucked into his belt.

Lucius bowed. "My Lord."

Voldemort did not take his eyes off Harry. "Can't you see I'm busy, Lucius? Need I remind you of your place?"

Lucius kept his head bowed, eyes fixed on the hem of Voldemort's robe. "Of course not, my lord."

"What is it?" Voldemort decided that the quickest way to get rid of Lucius was to humour him.

"You left rather abruptly with no orders. The mudblood began making suppositions and I was unaware of the best course of action to take."

Voldemort now turned to Lucius and noticed Harry's friends. "You brought the situation with you?"

"We told him not to," said Hermione. "We didn't think you'd want to be disturbed."

"Why didn't you listen to her?" Voldemort asked. "Clearly she has a better grasp of the situation than you do."

"My lord," said Lucius. "She's a mudblood!"

"And I'm a half-blood," said Voldemort, tired of Lucius. "What of it?"

Lucius looked as though he was the one who'd travelled through time and space to be there. "My lord?"

"Listen to the mudblood," said Voldemort. "And go away."

With a wave of Voldemort's wand, Lucius found himself and the five Hogwarts students back in the corridor. Where there had previously been a door was now an expanse of wall.

Hermione smirked. "You heard him. You have to listen to me."

"He's not in a right state of mind," said Lucius. "You can't take anything he says seriously."

"When was Voldemort ever in a fit state of mind?" wondered Hermione. "Besides, sane or not, that was a direct order. And you know what happens when you disobey a direct order."

Lucius winced almost imperceptibly, his stony exterior momentarily cracked.

"First," said Hermione. "Take the spell off Ginny and Ron."

Malfoy made no move to hide his displeasure at having to take a mudblood's orders.

"Thanks Hermione," said Ron, once he was able.

"Now Lucius," said Hermione. "We're going back to Hogwarts to make a few changes."

x x x

Harry looked to where the door had been. "You can't keep me locked up here forever."

"Can't I?" Voldemort asked, leering at Harry. "I rather like the way you look there."

Harry frowned, and if he could have, he would have crossed his arms over his chest. He hated how vulnerable the chains made him feel. Hated how he trusted Voldemort to not take advantage. "You haven't changed," he said. "Always wanting to see me pressed up against a wall."

"But I have changed." Voldemort indicated his emaciated body. "I'm little better than a corpse."

"It's better than dead," said Harry, that part of the equation sinking in. The man he was in love with was supposed to have died before he could know him. Their time together in the past could have been all they ever had. Their relationship should have been impossible, but here the two of them were. In the right time, if not the right place.

"Just barely," said Voldemort.

"No!" said Harry. "Infinitely better."

Voldemort's expression lightened, and Harry could see Tom peeking through. "I'm still upset with you, Harry. Fifty-two years is a long time, but I don't forget things."

"You're still mad that I wouldn't sleep with you," said Harry. "What if I told you I would right now?"

"I find it difficult to believe," said Voldemort. "This body is not what mine used to be."

Still the same, thought Harry. Still insecure. Still Tom. Harry wondered why he'd had so much trouble reconciling the two of them in the past. Right here it was completely obvious. He wasn't in love with a dream. He was in love with the man standing before him. The physically almost-repulsive, very much older than him, evil Dark Lord standing before him.

"I would," said Harry. "Let me prove it to you."

But Voldemort didn't release him. Instead he changed the subject. "Your appearance today has derailed my plans for tonight."

"What were you doing at Hogwarts?" Harry asked, unable to contain his curiosity any longer.

"I was looking for your mudblood friend," said Voldemort.

Harry remembered. "You were going to kill her."

"Yes," said Voldemort. "But you stopped me."

"But you're not going to try again, are you?" asked Harry. He'd realised that there were a lot of things he could forgive Voldemort for, selfishly enough, but this, he wouldn't be able to. Perhaps Voldemort wasn't above testing that.

"That depends," said Voldemort. "What are you willing to do for me in return?"

Harry rolled his eyes. Voldemort would have to scare him a lot more before he begged. "Why were you going after her specifically?'

"A lot has changed since you've been gone," said Voldemort. "I'm in charge, now."

The fear that Harry had been too afraid to feel raced through his veins, chilling him more than steel manacles and cold stone on bare skin. "Dumbledore..." said Harry. He quickly turned his head to the side. He didn't want to hear it.

Voldemort stood in Harry's field of vision, taking his fingers to Harry's cheeks. "It wasn't me. It wasn't my wand and my words that killed him."

Harry laughed, his grief turning into hysteria. "Of course it was you," he said. "Unless you can tell me it was a complete accident. Or that he died of natural causes."

"I may have ordered his death," said Voldemort. "But it certainly didn't go as I had planned."

Harry refused to acknowledge him.

Voldemort went on. "It was Snape who dealt the killing blow. I had rather hoped that young Draco would redeem his family by fulfilling my last request. Alas, he failed."

The word 'alas' reminded Harry so strongly of Dumbledore that he couldn't help himself and began to cry. He tried to stifle them, but his shackled position wouldn't allow him enough breath. Suddenly, his hands broke free and Voldemort caught him in his embrace.

Harry breathed in Voldemort's scent, just the same as Tom's and surrendered to his grief. He soon fell asleep, wrapped in the Dark Lord's arms.

Voldemort carried Harry to his bedroom easily, and settled him into his bed. He stayed with Harry for a moment, before casting a sleeping charm on him and warding the room thoroughly. As an extra precaution, he left Nagini to attack anyone who entered the room, and set two house elves to alert him if Harry woke, or if the room changed state in any way. He stroked the hair back from Harry's forehead and was able to make out the lightning bolt scar beneath the newer scarring now that he knew what he was looking for. He pressed a kiss gently to Harry's scarred forehead and apparated back to Hogwarts.

x x x

Voldemort found a surprising lack of chaos in Hogwarts. It was strange as he often imagined that nothing would ever get done without his supervision. His Death Eaters generally lacked the spine required to take charge, and those who did have the spine could be counted upon to misdirect their orders. The Carrows and Snape had been hunting through Hogwarts for the mudblood for weeks and he'd turned her up in a day. Unfortunately, Harry had intervened. But Voldemort had uses for people smart enough to evade his Death Eaters in close quarters.

The entirety of the castle's living occupants were gathered in the Great Hall. The long tables had been banished and the students were arranged in rows of purple sleeping bags, each asleep. His Death Eaters stood guard at every entrance and had their eyes trained on every sleeping bag. Strangely the Carrows were missing from the rank. But what was most surprising was the sight of the head table at the far end of the room.

Lucius Malfoy and Severus Snape were sitting conversing with five students who looked vaguely familiar. Four of them looked worse for wear, though they were clean. The visibly uninjured brunette witch seemed to be holding court, having commandeered the headmaster's chair for herself. Snape occupied the chair to her right. She raised her head and dared to make eye contact with him before the rest of the table noted his presence. She bowed her head respectfully as he approached and Voldemort remembered who she was. It was the mudblood who'd evaded the Carrows but who'd also had the common sense to warn Lucius against disturbing him and Harry.

"Good evening Lord Voldemort," she said. "We weren't expecting to see you back so soon."

Voldemort eyed her suspiciously. She was far too confident. As though the situation had flipped on his head since he'd pulled the Invisibility Cloak off her that afternoon. Voldemort did not like it one bit. "I believe you are in my seat."

The mudblood didn't say a word, but vacated the seat promptly. The students to her left each moved down a seat to accommodate her. She seemed to have difficulty with the motion, the redhead beside her helped her as she braced herself on the table.

Voldemort sat and directed his next command to Snape. "Report."

"My lord," said Snape. "We detained all the students should you have further questions. However I do intend for regular classes to resume tomorrow."

"Very well," said Voldemort. He certainly didn't care much for the running of the school. "And the rest of my empire?" Voldemort prompted.

"Progress on all projects has proceeded as expected," said Snape, taking care not to reveal anything to the students sitting at the table.

Voldemort nodded.

"How's Harry?" asked the mudblood, showing excessive familiarity. Voldemort did not wish to become familiar with this girl, regardless of whatever feelings Harry might have toward her. Unfortunately, with so many witnesses, it would be difficult to properly punish her.

"Resting," Voldemort answered the question anyway. He could not begrudge her the feelings she held toward Harry when he had similar ones. That did not, however, stop him from noticing the other children making disgusted faces at one another. "Not that it is any of your business, he is merely exhausted from his journey."

"Too bad," said the blonde girl.

Voldemort flashed his eyes at her, and had to hide his displeasure when she did not flinch. He ignored her and turned to Snape and Malfoy. "Why are these children not asleep?"

Lucius answered, "You commanded that I listen to the mudblood and I obeyed, my lord."

That really was quite clever of the mudblood, Voldemort mused as he eyed her. "You'd do well to curb your cleverness lest I think it insubordination."

"I'll try," she said. "But Harry and I are going to have a talk and you might not like what he does after that."

"Was that a threat, girl?"

"Of course not, my lord." Was that sarcasm? "Only a statement of fact."

Voldemort let his displeasure show. To think that Harry Potter's influence on him should extend to the otherwise insignificant children sharing his table. Children of an age with his Harry. Voldemort put them out of his mind. "Lucius, you must not listen to the mudblood any longer."

"Gladly, my lord."

"Where are my laws?" Voldemort asked Snape.

A folder appeared before Voldemort. "You'll remember that during our last meeting we successfully phrased the law that states your word is law."

Voldemort said nothing as he flicked through the parchment before him.

"You stated that the next matter we would deal with would be the Muggles and their magical offspring."

Voldemort felt rather than saw the girl beside him sit up straighter to better hear the conversation.

"I trust your stance has not changed in the past twenty-four hours," said Snape.

Snape would need to be taught his place. He was being as impertinent as the children. "I had been re-thinking Muggle policy. It seems it would be logistically difficult to control them. Genocide too, seems rather messy."

"My lord?" Lucius was confused.

"Perhaps segregation was the right idea," said Voldemort. "Though Muggles should be taught to fear us."

The mudblood and the redhead exchanged glances.

"And the mudbloods?" prompted Malfoy.

"They shall join us at birth. Perhaps trained for more menial roles."

"And half-bloods?" asked the mudblood. Voldemort eyed her. It was obvious she knew the truth about his parentage. Perhaps Snape's too. She knew and she was daring him to show the extent of his hypocrisy.

That was the final straw. Voldemort flicked a quick electroshock curse at her. It wasn't quite as painful as the Cruciatus and lasted only a second. The problem was that death was a possibility, no matter how short one used it. Death by Cruciatus was unheard of, as it was a mental, rather than a physical torture.

The mudblood didn't scream, the pain was too short lived, but the message was clear. The mudblood kept her mouth shut, though she seemed to shift slightly in her chair.

"There will be no more half-bloods," Voldemort stated ominously. "No more interbreeding."

Lucius seemed to approve of that statement.

"We'll die out," said the redhead. Voldemort wondered if he was half-blooded, too. But his red hair seemed to indicate that he was a Weasley. For all their blood-traitorous ways, they still never deigned to procreate with a Muggle. There was something that could be said for that sort of hypocrisy.

"What proof do you have of that, Weasley?" asked Lucius, confirming Voldemort's suspicions about the boy's heritage. "From what I've seen the blood traitors you call a family could populate t his planet entirely by themselves."

"And I'm sure you'd be pleased with that outcome," said the Weasley. "A world so full of Weasleys every generation you'd have to marry another." Surprisingly the Weasley boy's words sank into Lucius' head. What good was a world where Weasleys outnumbered everyone else?

"I think," said Voldemort. "That this is not a world that is so easily made divided. Reasonable arguments will be heard by a council, but I will have final say in all matters. In addition, we have to consider the definition of half-blood. One born of a Muggle and a wizard or witch must be considered half-blooded. However the child of a mudblood and a pure-blood will be considered pure-blooded: a first generation pure-blood with different entitlements from older, better bred families."

As Voldemort spoke, Snape wrote, expanding upon the Dark Lord's statements in a way that a Quick Quotes Quill would never be able to.

"I can't help but think, my lord," said Lucius. "That this is a sudden change of heart."

Voldemort frowned at Malfoy. "I need not justify myself to you. But since you seem unable to make the connection yourself, I will humour you.

"I despise Muggles and have no intention of paying them any mind. I didn't set out to take control of the wizarding world simply to dispose of the creatures. To fixate upon them is rather beneath me- something your father well understood, Lucius Malfoy."

Lucius remained quiet, but anyone could see he was seething. Whatever anyone had heard about Voldemort and his policies, it was unlikely they truly understood how he thought. He had plans for the wizarding world that extended beyond death and destruction. With the end of the war, Voldemort was inclined to show a little leniency, even toward those who had opposed him. And any thinking man would have noticed the corruption within the Ministry of Magic before Voldemort had taken over. It was time that system was overhauled, and who better to do it than Voldemort? Someone with enough power to see that everyone followed through with what they were supposed to be doing. And with Harry Potter by his side, it was certainly going to be much easier to sway those on the other side.

A house elf appeared before them, bowing before Lord Voldemort and waiting to be addressed before speaking. "Master's friend is waking." Voldemort dismissed the elf quickly.

"Everything seems to be running smoothly, so I will take my leave," he said. "Snape, I want that potion by daybreak."

Snape nodded in acquiescence.

"Say hello to Harry for us," said the blonde witch with a smile.

Voldemort didn't waste time in cursing her and quickly apparated right out.

x x x

Harry woke feeling extremely disoriented. It was the unnatural sort of waking that he was accustomed to experiencing in the Hogwarts hospital wing. But this room was too brightly coloured to be a hospital wing in any time. The door opened and Harry felt suddenly afraid without knowing why. Voldemort entered and Harry relaxed. Only a year ago the sight would have made him more anxious. As it was, Harry felt a smile creep across his face.

Voldemort actually smiled a real, Tom-esque smile when he caught Harry's eye. Even that was a far cry from not so long ago when he'd had Harry chained to a wall. Harry paused in his thoughts. Voldemort had chained Harry to a wall.

"Why did you chain me to a wall?" asked Harry.

For a snake, Voldemort looked rather sheepish. "I didn't want you to run away."

"I wouldn't have," said Harry.

"I didn't know that. It was the first time I'd seen you and known who you were. I didn't know if what you said to me was a lie."

"I tried not to lie to you," Harry said. "You seemed to catch them every time, anyway. Except for my name. You never figured that one out."

The hint of a smile crept across Voldemort's lips as he remembered his time as Tom. "I did manage to weasel a lot more out of you than you were comfortable with."

Harry groaned. "I was so worried every time that whatever I said would be the end of the world."

"Well it's still here," said Voldemort.

Harry laced his fingers through Voldemort's and the two of them stared at their joined hands for a moment. When had they ever thought that this would happen?

"I missed you," Voldemort said suddenly. Then anger sparked in his eyes. "Do you know what it's like to spend your whole life looking for someone? To worry that you'll never meet? You're the entire reason why I wanted to live forever, Harry."

A chill went down Harry's spine. "That's a lie," he said. "You don't get to rewrite history the way that sounds better to you. You'd already made your first horcrux before we met. Don't disrespect our history by making things up."

"I might have thought about it before then," said Voldemort. "It was an abstract concept, really. I didn't understand what it would mean to live forever. Not until I met you. You have to have something to live for, after all."

The words might have sounded sweet to anyone else's ears, but all Harry could hear was, "You didn't trust me."

"What? Of course I did."

"You didn't have to kill people to be with me. I'd already told you that we met."

"And what if I hadn't? I might have died before I met you. It was my horcruxes that saved me the night your parents died."

There were so many things wrong with what Voldemort had just said, yet it all made sense. Voldemort had to do what he did for them to get to this point. But that didn't mean that he had to continue with them.

"Things are going to be different now, aren't they?" said Harry.

"That depends on you."

"Me?" said Harry. "How? I'm here, aren't I?"

"Are you going to stay? If you had a choice would you still be here?"

"Yes," said Harry without a thought. "Though I think we'd have to move out of Malfoy Manor eventually."

Voldemort laughed and it wasn't a forced approximation of a laugh. It was the real deal. Humour sparkled in his eyes. "You've fallen into my lap quite easily."

"You call travelling more than fifty years into the past _easy_?"

"That was all on you. You fell quite neatly into my lap, though you weren't sure what had sent you there."

"Oh, that," said Harry. "I believe it was a boil cure potion, Draco Malfoy and a Puking Pastille."

"Young Draco?" Voldemort stroked his chin thoughtfully. Absently Harry wondered if Voldemort had ever grown a beard. Could this Voldemort even grow hair? It certainly wasn't a serpentine trait.

"I wish you wouldn't call him you," said Harry. "He's older than I am."

"I remember when Draco Malfoy was born," said Voldemort. "Lucius had wanted me there to bless him or something." Harry scoffed. "Anyway, he hasn't half your maturity. The description is apt."

It pleased Harry to think that Voldemort thought him mature. He really had marked him as his equal, though his purpose as his equal was somewhat different from what the prophecy had implied.

Voldemort stripped off his outer robe and shoes before slipping into bed with Harry. "It's time that we slept."

Harry looked at the far too clothed man in the bed beside him. "Are you kidding me? All I've done since I got here was sleep!"

"Where are my manners?" said Voldemort. "Are you hungry?"

Harry shook his head. Even though it had been decades since he'd last eaten, he was in the slightest. "Not for food," he said, lowering his voice and showing Voldemort how his pupils had dilated.

"Now?" said Voldemort. "Just like that?"

"Yes," said Harry, realising that it may be his lot in life to constantly reassure a Dark Lord. That was pretty impressive considering that before his trip to the past Harry had never seen Voldemort look at all unsure.

"What about everything you said before? Does this mean you believe I love you?"

Harry hadn't thought about it. Sex with Tom had seemed like a much bigger deal, life or death. Something with much larger consequences. Sex with Voldemort just seemed like something inevitable, and Harry didn't know of any better place to start a future than in the present. "I believe," said Harry. "That I'm willing to sleep with you whether I believe it or not."

Voldemort stared at him as though he'd turned up another creature. "Are you sure you aren't the one who's lived fifty years since we last met?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "All the time in the past I had to second guess everything. Well I'm back where I belong now and I think that's all that matters. Unless it's you who doesn't want to sleep with me."

Voldemort kissed Harry and it was so much better than Harry had expected it ever could be with Voldemort. If Harry was honest with himself, Tom Riddle was far more attractive than Lord Voldemort, but Harry was more than capable of pushing that aside for something that was real. He'd been through so much in his life that it was genuineness that he found most attractive in a person. Tom was on his way to becoming something. Voldemort was that something.

The kiss was rather gnashing, with all the fierce devouring of a kiss with Tom Riddle, and yet more of everything else, too. It was almost as though Voldemort was thanking him for something. For what, Harry wasn't sure.

Voldemort's canines were more elongated and pointed than Tom's had been. And Harry's tongue wasn't quite sure yet, but he thought Voldemort's tongue was forked. Harry hardened further at the thought of what a forked tongue could do if it were wrapped around his dick.

Harry moaned and groaned into Voldemort's mouth as he found himself on his back, Voldemort astride his, his still covered knee right on Harry's groin causing the most delightful friction Harry ever recalled. It all felt exactly right. Harmonised.

"You taste," said Voldemort, punctuating each word with a brief kiss. First on the lips, then down his jaw and neck. "Better than I remember."

Harry laughed before it broke off into a moan as he became certain that yes, Voldemort's tongue was forked. It was all a blur from then on. Harry remembered Voldemort's hands being all over him, and that he'd wanted to touch Voldemort everywhere in return, but he was thwarted at every turn by his overly sensitive body and Voldemort's remaining clothing.

Harry remembered feeling more than he'd ever felt before. He would never be able to describe the sensations.

The Voldemort's hands finally grasped Harry's penis, and his balls, and Harry remembered begging. He'd begged Voldemort to take him in the way he pretended he hadn't imagined so often. The way he'd thought would never happen. Voldemort's long, slender fingers were slicked in something and began probing Harry's arse, and Harry didn't want to pull away, but...

Harry had tried to hold on. Had mentioned how close he was, time and again. Voldemort hadn't slowed and his fingers played Harry to orgasm before his own dick made an appearance.

It was payback, Harry thought dimly as he rolled over, exhausted. But that was okay, because now they had tomorrow. They had all the tomorrows Harry could ask for because he was living a life where there wasn't a megalomaniac on the loose trying to kill him. Harry smiled as he drifted off to sleep.

x X X x

A/N: So, in a first for this story: VOLDEMORT POV! Come to think of it, I'm not sure why I stuck that in. I'm pretty sure it'll be the last time.

BTW, sorry if you were looking forward to a more evil Voldemort. It just doesn't fit with this story. But he won't be entirely good, either. That would just be ridiculous. And well, you're still holding on for real sex. Sorry about that. (Not.)


	20. Culture Shock

**Time and Again**

**Author's Note:** Oh look, another chapter. And most of it was written more than three years ago. My writing style has changed, so has the plot, and who knows anything anymore? I'm trying to work on finishing this story rather than finishing it well. I have made no effort to reign in the odd, unimportant or rambling.

Who the hell knows what's going on in this story? Not me. Why am I still writing it? Why are you still reading it? _I_ haven't read this chapter. Continuity is a joke.

I'm sorry, but I still figure you'd rather have crap chapters than none? Feel free to correct me (via pm- I've given up on reviews, people) if I'm wrong.

**Chapter 19 - Culture Shock**

_September 1997_

Harry awoke in bed next to Voldemort, sticky, and mortified that he'd fallen asleep before he could bring Voldemort off himself.

Voldemort was still asleep beside him, but came to consciousness in seconds when Harry hit him on the shoulder.

"I can't believe you let me do that," ranted Harry. "I'm supposed to be the compassionate one. You're supposed to be the selfish one."

Voldemort wasn't yet awake enough to understand what Harry's problem was. "Beg your pardon?"

"You!" raged Harry. "You didn't get off last night. Then you let me fall asleep!" That had never happened with Tom. Harry suddenly frightened that Voldemort was bored with him, had found better over the years. Perhaps he'd just lured Harry into his bed to kill him. Kill him with embarrassment. That sounded about right. That was why he was naked and why Voldemort was still fully clothed. Did the Dark Lord usually go to sleep in his robes?

Voldemort soothed Harry's fears with a gentle brush of his fingers through Harry's hair. A gentle kiss was pressed to his scarred forehead. Another followed on his scarred cheeks until finally Voldemort's lips were resting on Harry's own. Harry relaxed, letting his hands wander. They calmly explored Voldemort's chest, lingering in the laces of his shirt before loosening them and pushing the shirt over Voldemort's shoulders. His skin was slightly grey, which would have disturbed almost anyone, but Harry only found it easier to compare that pale perfection to a work of art carved from the finest marble.

"Harry," Voldemort moaned before Harry stifled further words with the tip of his tongue. Voldemort almost lost himself completely. But he didn't give in to his lover. "Harry, stop."

The words did nothing for Harry's ego. His eyes pierced Voldemort's with sadness. It was stupid to think that it would be perfect when he got back. "Of course. Your Death Eaters are waiting, right."

Knowing an out when he heard one, Voldemort agreed. "I would love to have you return the favour, but certain circumstances won't allow for it."

Harry nodded and reluctantly let Voldemort leave the bed. He watched as the older man put his shirt back on, then went into the adjoining bathroom. Harry followed him.

Voldemort was surprised to see him. "What are you doing in here?"

Harry wasn't sure, but he thought Voldemort seemed apprehensive, afraid that Harry would try to force himself on him, that he'd have to make another excuse for not wanting to consummate their relationship. The situation was insane. Voldemort wasn't supposed to be afraid of little Harry Potter.

Harry ignored the implications of that for the time being. He merely kissed Voldemort's thin lips, then went to relieve himself in the toilet. Voldemort looked purposefully away the entire time. Harry couldn't stop a sigh from escaping, one that was far from relieved. He didn't understand what had changed so much since he'd been with Tom. Voldemort had said he wasn't upset, but his actions seemed to convey the exact opposite. It worried Harry because if Tom and Voldemort weren't the same person, he'd fallen in love with a lie. He'd lost Tom to a figment of his imagination.

Voldemort went through the strangely Muggle act of brushing his teeth and washing his face. Harry hadn't smelt morning breath on him, so he probably used a permanent mouth-freshening charm. But the rest of his routing was strictly non-magical, likely aided by the fact that he had no hair growing on his head. Harry wished he knew whether that serpentine lack of hair continued over the rest of his body. He'd never imagined that Voldemort would keep that knowledge from him.

x x x

Voldemort left without another word as Harry peered through his wardrobe, trying to find his smallest robe to borrow. Harry hurriedly pulled on the next robe his fingers touched- something more black lace than substance- and followed the Dark Lord out of his bedroom, not realising that the robe he'd picked up was meant to be worn over another and therefore exposed rather a lot more of himself than he'd usually be comfortable with.

It was therefore unnecessary to say that Harry made an entrance when he walked in on the Death Eater meeting. Every single one of Voldemort's followers- including Draco Malfoy his arch-enemy, and Professor Snape- was there to see the Harry Potter trip over a lacy over-robe and display a package none of them would have been ashamed to possess (except perhaps the women). Voldemort's eyes were fierce when they landed on Harry, who couldn't help but feel ashamed. He'd assumed Voldemort was going to eat before the meeting, not waltz straight to his entire congregation of followers. Dimly he hoped that he hadn't undermined Voldemort's authority by turning up like this. Merlin, Voldemort probably still had some explaining to from yesterday.

There were jeers and catcalls before Voldemort silenced his people with a wave of his hand. The same hand he used to help Harry to his feet, before bringing him to stand to his right.

"My Death Eaters," Voldemort addressed his followers. "The time has come for me to explain our new world order." Voldemort smirked. "Having successfully eliminated the vast majority of half-bloods and mudbloods from our society-" Harry looked up sharply. Eliminated? Had Voldemort killed thousands, millions of people in the time he'd been gone? Harry hadn't had time to think about just how much the world had changed, and now he felt this was only the edge of the ruin Voldemort had made of society.

"It is time to reward those who remain," said Voldemort.

This time silence reached a new level of quiet as the Death Eaters tried to figure out what this meant for them and the rest of the world. Harry was astonished. He wondered if this plan had anything to do with himself and Voldemort's feelings for him (it he had any at all) or if this had been his plan all along.

"From the very beginning," Voldemort said, looking at his followers with something that one someone else might have been thought of as pride. Harry had the feeling Voldemort was going to do some more revisionist history. It didn't stop him from feeling a small amount of admiration for the man. "I have desired a wizarding utopia, where those of us with magical talent rule those without. I have desired that there be no secrecy within the world; all would be made aware of our superiority. I sought to weed out those undeserving of their magic. They have fled. Those who remain have proven themselves loyal to magic if nothing else. You, my most faithful, have always known that this fight was not about blood purity. It was about power and dominance. It is time to embrace the charred remains of our war, turn our efforts to the new world order, and live in the society our toil has brought us."

The Death Eaters applauded and Harry wondered if they were hearing the same thing. Voldemort dismissed the meeting, and Harry took the opportunity to express his own opinion. "I think I understand you better, now," said Harry. "I still don't agree with your methods, but the sentiment I understand."

Voldemort nodded. Harry wondered if he was being given the silent treatment for his less than dignified entrance.

"I can accept the past," said Harry. "Even though I don't like it. But it's over now, isn't it? Tell me you aren't going to kill anyone else. Tell me you haven't given everyone carte blanche for murder."

"Even I am more tactful than that," said Voldemort, sounding offended the way Tom always did. "We were in a war. It is a time of peace, now. You'll make sure of it."

The way Voldemort said it made Harry feel all gooey inside. Voldemort believed in him.

"What about democracy?" Harry asked, wondering why he was bothering to ask at all.

"If there is anything we can learn from Muggles," said Voldemort. "It is that a monarchy can work. You and I will exist outside of normal laws."

"That's not exactly fair, is it?" said Harry. "And being at the top will only make us a target. At the top, the only way to go is down."

"But that is the way it has always been, Harry. You and I are not normal." Harry liked the way Voldemort said his name. It was something of an endearment, not merely that which he was always called.

"Then there have to be other people who will never abide by your rules."

"Those with enough power will never let others shackle them."

"And then we end up with another Grindelwald... or you."

Voldemort didn't seem to mind that Harry still lumped him in the same league as Grindelwald. "That's inevitable, Harry," said Voldemort. "And there will always be someone like Dumbledore, or you, to stop them."

"I'm not like Dumbledore," said Harry, his throat closing up as he remembered that Dumbledore was gone.

"Well there are many similarities," Voldemort pointed out. "The biggest difference that I see is that you and I have actually formed a relationship. Dumbledore only hoped to have one with Grindelwald."

"Dumbledore wasn't gay," said Harry, though he wasn't sure why. He'd let the rumour pass unremarked upon back at Hogwarts

"Of course he was," said Voldemort. "The greatest wizards always are. It stops us from passing on the power. Could you imagine if everyone had this much power? The planet would be blown apart in a second, as all squabbles turned magical."

There was Voldemort's usual inflated sense of self-importance. "I don't think that would happen."

"That's is because you are an idealist," said Voldemort.

Harry blinked. He was realising that Tom and Voldemort were different people. It was strange to think that the more Harry got to know Voldemort, the more Harry liked him. He was less angry than Tom had been, and more sure of his own place in the world. Somewhere along the line he'd healed some of the wounds he'd borne. If only he hadn't had to kill to get there.

Harry kissed Voldemort then, leaning up and wrapping his arms around the other man's neck and gently luring him in. It stunned some of the remaining Death Eaters, but the rest just nodded as if they'd always known.

"Oh Merlin," moaned Voldemort. "Why are you wearing this thing?" he asked, fiddling with the fabric clothing Harry's arse, and at the same time shielding him with his hands. A larger hole in the lace had made its way precisely over Harry's opening. "Were you trying to make it impossible for my Death Eaters to respect me?"

Harry blushed. "You left so quickly. I grabbed the first thing because I didn't want to be left behind."

"I thought you'd wait," said Voldemort. "Did you really want to see a Death Eater meeting?"

Harry's cheeks darkened further. "Well no, but I can't say I didn't enjoy it."

"Well I didn't," said Voldemort. "They were all looking you as though they had the right. You're mine, you know?"

"Then show me," said Harry through a breath, kissing Voldemort deeply. They were so intertwined that Harry felt it the second his lover stiffened (and not in the right way). Harry broke of the kiss. "Are you ever going to tell me what's wrong?"

"Severus!" said Voldemort.

Snape turned to look at him, as did the remaining occupants of the room. "Yes, my Lord?"

"Have you finished that potion?"

"Of course," said Snape. "Should I retrieve it for you?"

"Immediately. And place it in my bedchambers."

Snape bowed and left the room.

"So you aren't going to tell me," said Harry. He wished he hadn't had to say it.

"I'm sorry, Harry. I'd rather it be a surprise."

"You don't need to protect me like a child."

"When have I ever protected children?" said Voldemort.

Harry drew back, crossing his arms. "You know what I mean."

"I wouldn't keep anything important from you," said Voldemort.

"If it's not important then it doesn't need to be a secret," said Harry.

"It's important to me."

"What's important to you is important to me."

"You'll find out it due course," said Voldemort. "Can't I have this one thing?"

Harry sighed. Voldemort was right. It was pointless to argue with Voldemort over this. But Harry worried about what Voldemort was doing all the time. It didn't matter whether he was right beside him or somewhere across time and space.

"Let's get you out of this robe," Voldemort said into Harry's ear.

Harry's reaction to that statement was visible, causing Voldemort to remove his outermost robe and place it around Harry, tying the sash tightly to hold it closed.

"That wasn't what I meant," said Voldemort.

Again Harry's fears roared to the forefront of his mind. Why wouldn't Voldemort sleep with him?

x x x

Voldemort led Harry back to his room and showed Harry what he hadn't seen before. Opposite Voldemort's wardrobe was a second set of doors leading to a walk-in closet. Candles inside ignited as soon as they entered, casting a mysterious glow on the racks of clothing within. It was more than twice the size of Voldemort's wardrobe. Besides the hangers and drawers, there were cases of jewellery laid out and pair after pair of shoes. Every outfit Harry had ever worn in his life would have taken up less than one wall of the wardrobe, which must have been expanded magically, it was so large.

"Every time I saw something that reminded me of you, I bought it."

Harry's first glance had revealed the usual Muggle and wizarding clothing. A deeper look showed stranger things like shawls and feminine accessories. "I hope you don't actually expect me to wear all this of this stuff."

Voldemort didn't blush, but Harry knew he was embarrassed all the same. "I had nothing to entertain myself but my fantasies. They grew rather vivid and obscure."

That in turn made Harry blush, though didn't explain why the man hadn't tried to enact them as soon as they were reunited.

Voldemort pointed to the wall on the left. "I definitely don't expect you to wear any of those outside the bedroom."

Harry looked and had no idea what half of it was. Silk pyjamas he recognised, and cotton briefs. Some of it looked like ladies underwear and some of it was right out of the history books. Harry guessed that there was something there from every year that Voldemort had been apart from Harry.

"The right wall is casual clothing and the back is formalwear," said Voldemort.

Harry had never had casual wizarding clothes before. He'd seen some of the pure-bloods and half-bloods wearing them on weekends though, especially in the past. Ron's wardrobe had contained a mixture of muggle casual clothes and homemade wizarding wear which led Harry to believe that wizarding clothes weren't as affordable. Neville had worn casual wizarding robes every weekend, though. Harry recognised the almost nineteenth century muggle shirts and pants combined with plain outer robes.

Voldemort left Harry to do whatever it was that Dark Lords did, but he did remember to mention to Harry that his friends were in the Manor. Harry changed into a green t-shirt that matched his eyes perfectly. It brought a fond smile to Harry's face to realise that Voldemort had remembered him so vividly. He was glad to wear jeans again, even if they were grey and tighter than any Harry had ever owned before. There weren't many muggle jackets, so Harry slide a black robe with silver lining over the top. His shoe options, though varied, were not to Harry's liking. Voldemort had grossly overestimated the size of Harry's feet. Those that might have fit were strange buckled things that would take an eternity to put on or remove. Finally he found a pair of golden slipper-like shoes that were sinfully comfortable, though didn't add much to his hodgepodge of an outfit.

Once dressed, Harry was ready to go exploring the Manor. He opened the door to find Draco Malfoy standing outside, apparently waiting for him.

"Malfoy," Harry greeted, slightly unsure of himself around the other teen. Malfoy was the cause of his trip through time. Harry could only hope that him being on Voldemort's good side would mean less antagonising from Malfoy.

Malfoy bowed and addressed Harry as Lord Potter.

Harry wasn't so sure that he liked the change. He had a suspicion he'd much prefer being antagonised.

"Lord Voldemort has requested that I act as your tour guide and help you in every other way that I can."

"This is too weird, Malfoy," said Harry. "You can't call me Lord Potter."

Malfoy smirked and Harry was glad to see it. "Sorry, Lord Potter." Malfoy bowed again. "What the Dark Lord wants, the Dark Lord gets."

Harry frowned. "I can't believe you're enjoying this."

"Personal aide to the Dark Lord's right hand man is a very prestigious position," said Malfoy. Harry almost thought he believed it.

"You're my _aide_?" asked Harry.

"While the Dark Lord wants me to be, yes." Malfoy really didn't seem to be bothered by essentially being Harry's servant. He seemed almost thankful for it.

"What happened to you while I was gone?" asked Harry.

Malfoy's face became a mask of stoic calm and he recited more than remembered his story. "Voldemort was upset when he heard that you'd disappeared. He was certain that Snape or I knew something that we weren't telling him. I couldn't tell him anything more than what I'd thrown in your cauldron, and Snape didn't even know that much. Despite his lack of confidence in me, he allowed me the opportunity to make amends. That was when he moved into the Manor. Luckily, the only thing I had to do for Voldemort was that which he'd asked me to do before the school year began. I already had a plan."

"What was it?" asked Harry.

"To kill Dumbledore," said Malfoy.

Harry paled. Dumbledore's death was still a fresh wound. "But you didn't kill him," said Harry, remembering what Voldemort had told him.

"I tried," said Malfoy. "I couldn't, so Snape did it for me."

Anger curled in Harry's belly. Dumbledore had trusted Snape and though Harry had never felt that same level of trust, he felt just as betrayed.

"He was bound to do it," Malfoy said. "My mother made him swear an Unbreakable Vow."

Strangely, Malfoy seemed to have been trying to assuage Harry's feelings. The strangest part was that Harry did feel relieved.

"Voldemort was pleased enough by Snape that he granted his wish that I not be murdered. That I be allowed to live as though I was never a Death Eater."

"But you were at the meeting this morning," said Harry.

"I still have the mark," said Malfoy. "But I was not favoured by our Lord. But he gave me this job so I know that he's no longer upset with me."

Harry nodded as he processed that. "Show me where my friends are now."

"This way, Lord Potter," said Malfoy, leading Harry down the corridor. Their progress was tracked by the watchful eyes of generations of Malfoy portraits. It unnerved Harry as most of them obviously thought it was beneath a Malfoy to let half-bloods take up residence. Malfoy seemed well-practised in avoiding them.

One storey lower, Harry was led into some sort of study or library where Hermione was waiting. A book was open on the table in front of her. She smiled and stood to greet her friend. "Harry!"

They embraced, revelling in the feel of being physically close to one another for the first time in over a year.

Malfoy cleared his throat when he thought it had gone on long enough.

"Right," said Harry. "I want to speak to Hermione privately. Don't you have anything else to do?"

"Only what you tell me to do, Lord Potter," said Malfoy.

"Er, well, you're dismissed for now. I'll call you when I need you."

Malfoy bowed low and left the room.

"What was that all about?" Hermione asked as she retook her seat.

Harry sat in the armchair closest to her. "Voldemort assigned him to me as my 'aide'."

"He didn't seem upset by it," said Hermione. "He hasn't been so bad since you left, but this is more than that."

"Apparently it's something of a step up in the Death Eater food chain." Harry shrugged. "But that's enough about him. Where's Ron?"

Hermione was on the verge of pouting when she said, "Lucius Malfoy sent him and Neville on an errand and he wouldn't tell me what it was about. Ginny and Luna are back at school."

"I can ask Voldemort if you want," said Harry. "But I'm glad you're here, at least."

"Me too," said Hermione. "I just want to know."

"Well I'll ask Voldemort later," said Harry. He'd forgotten to be worried about Hermione's reaction to Voldemort. When he'd written to her, he'd felt like she knew. But he didn't even know if she'd gotten his letters. "Did you get my letters?" he asked.

"Yes," said Hermione with a smile. "At first I couldn't believe you and Tom Riddle, then it all seemed to make sense."

Harry blushed. "Do you think it's wrong of me?"

"I think you can't help who you fall in love with," said Hermione. "Otherwise I might have chosen better than Ron."

"You and Ron?" said Harry. "Finally."

It was Hermione's turn to blush. "We didn't want to waste any time... in case you never did come back. I'm so glad you're here."

"Me too," said Harry. "What else did I miss? How's Ginny?"

"Fine," said Hermione. "It took her the longest to get used to the idea of you and Voldemort. I don't think she ever really got over that crush she used to have on you."

That seemed like a lifetime ago, when Ginny couldn't say a word in his presence. Harry changed the subject. "How long has Voldemort been in charge?" Harry couldn't help thinking that if he'd been back in his own time, then Voldemort wouldn't have been able to take control.

"About four months," said Hermione. "But it feels like a lot longer. He banned Muggle-borns from Hogwarts so I've been using your invisibility cloak since school started."

"He banned Muggle-borns?" said Harry, preparing himself to argue with Voldemort.

"Don't get too upset," said Hermione. "I think he's going to change that now that you're back. And actually being at Hogwarts would probably be worse."

"Why do you say that?" asked Harry.

"The Carrows," said Hermione. And she launched into an explanation of the new disciplinary system in place.

Harry looked down at his hand. "And we thought Umbridge was bad."

Hermione grabbed his hand tightly. "It's not your fault," she said. "No one could have done anything to stop him. After Dumbledore..."

"I can't believe Snape killed him," said Harry. "Dumbledore trusted him."

"It's not Snape's fault," said Hermione. Harry looked up at her, surprised that she was defending him. "Dumbledore asked him to do it."

"What?" asked Harry.

"He was dying," said Hermione. "This way Snape got out of his Unbreakable Vow and Malfoy didn't have to do it. Snape's not so bad once you get to know him."

"You got to know him?"

Hermione shrugged. "We set up the DA again last year as an official club. Snape was our supervisor."

Harry shook his head. But if he could fall in love with Tom Riddle, Hermione could befriend Snape. Becoming allies with a double agent was certainly more plausible than time travelling and falling in love with a Dark Lord. "I never thought coming back home could give me culture shock."

"You've been away a long time," said Hermione. "A lot's changed."

"And not just with you," said Harry. "Voldemort's different. I mean, he's not Tom and I wasn't expecting that, but..." Harry wasn't sure he really wanted to talk about this with Hermione. But his only other option was waiting for Ron to get back. Harry suspected it would be a more worrisome conversation with Ron.

"What's wrong?" asked Hermione. "He's not forcing you to do anything, is he?"

"It's almost the opposite," said Harry. "But I don't know how much you'll want to hear." He, Hermione and Ron had never had conversations like this before. He realised he'd grown up in the time he'd been away with no one to rely upon but himself.

"You can tell me anything, Harry," said Hermione.

"Have you and Ron... had sex?"

Hermione blushed and Harry wondered if she was regretting telling him he could tell her anything. But she didn't let him down. "We have," she said. "I always thought I'd wait until marriage but when you're going to die, things change."

Harry sighed and got on with the crux of his problem. "Voldemort won't have sex with me, but that's the only thing Tom ever seemed to want to do."

Hermione reddened and tried to look at the situation objectively, without imagining her seventeen-year-old best friend having sex with a seventy-year-old man. "Well it's probably a bit overwhelming, this whole situation. He's probably just looking out for you. You did just travel in time, you know."

"I've made it clear that I want to," said Harry. "And he keeps knocking me back. I'm starting to wonder if it's revenge for before."

"What do you mean?"

"I didn't sleep with Tom. I knew that I'd end up back here and that I'd have to leave Tom behind. I was saving myself for Voldemort."

"Well it's only been a day," said Hermione. "I think you'd better give it some time before you worry too much about it."

"That's not all," said Harry. "He has some problem that he won't tell me about. Snape's made him a potion that's supposed to fix it and Voldemort doesn't want me to worry, but I am."

Hermione moved to drape an arm over her friend's shoulders. "You have a right to worry, but maybe you should just trust him. He'll tell you when he's ready."

"He doesn't want to tell me," said Harry. "If it works he's not going to tell me what the problem was."

"He'll soon see that he has to," said Hermione. "If he wants to keep you."

Harry felt his heart beat faster. "I can't lose him over this, whatever it is. Even if it does mean we can never have sex."

"What happens will happen," said Hermione. "It might not be a good idea to make promises you can't keep. Whatever he's hiding might be dangerous."

Harry bit his lip. "We'll get through this," he said. "I know I'm not going to survive if we ever break up."

The two friends sat in silence after that proclamation.

Harry's stomach rumbled, breaking the silence. "I haven't eaten anything since I got here," he said.

"Harry!" said Hermione. "I can't believe he lets you get away with that."

If it were up to Voldemort, Harry probably would have eaten breakfast instead of crashing his Death Eater meeting.

"I guess I'd better call Malfoy," said Harry with a grimace. "I think it's harder for me to accept help from him that it is for him to give it to me."

"Well," said Hermione. "There's always Kreacher."

"We're in Malfoy Manor," Harry reminded her. Some part of him did miss the crabby elf. "I bet there are wards preventing me from calling an outside house elf."

After a half-hearted attempt at calling Kreacher, Harry stepped outside to find Malfoy. The very same Malfoy who was diligently waiting for him outside the door. Harry was instantly on edge. "What did you hear?" he asked.

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Nothing my lips can repeat, Lord Potter. Don't you think Lord Voldemort made sure he could trust me with your safety?"

Harry bypassed relief and went straight to worried. "What did he make you do?"

"I swore an Unbreakable Vow, Lord Potter," said Malfoy. "Much like the one Snape swore when he was protecting me."

"I don't want you to be my slave," said Harry.

"I'm not," said Malfoy. "Do you really think I'd have this much personality if I was? Now what do you want?"

"Breakfast," said Harry. Then he listed items before Malfoy brought him back something decidedly odd. "Toast, bacon and eggs, and orange juice. Enough for me and Hermione."

Malfoy frowned. "Are you sure you don't want something healthier, Lord Potter?"

"Fine," said Harry. "And an apple apiece."

"Very well, sir." Malfoy bowed and Harry went back into the room with Hermione.

"I don't think I'll ever get used to that," said Harry to Hermione. "Let's hope I can get Voldemort to make it temporary."

"Somehow," said Hermione. "I don't think he's going to agree to that."

Harry shrugged. "He will eventually. If nothing else, I'm glad the war's over." He sat back down in his chair.

"It never really felt that way until now," she said.

"Why's that?"

"Because you're back."

"When Voldemort's put the government back in place, let's go on a holiday."

"Somewhere tropical," said Hermione.

"Where we can spend lazy days on the beach," said Harry, though he was thinking about his first date with Tom in Hogsmeade.

"Sipping cocktails from coconuts," said Hermione.

"That's right," said Harry, sitting up straighter. "What's the date? Have I missed your eighteenth birthday?"

"There wasn't much to it," said Hermione. "We were kind of on lockdown."

Malfoy entered the room as silent as a house elf, but Harry and Hermione shut up as though he'd charged in on a dragon. Malfoy quickly set the coffee table with the breakfast plates, and even went so far as to lay napkins on their laps.

The three of them were silent for a moment, just contemplating the food. Malfoy obviously wanted to linger like a servant, while Harry and Hermione just wanted him to leave.

"It's not poisoned," Malfoy finally said. "I tasted it myself."

Grudgingly, Harry began eating, savouring the simple taste of buttered toast. "Thanks Malfoy," he said. "You can go now."

Malfoy left and the tension in the room went with him.

"I don't think I'll get used to it either," said Hermione with a smile. "But I can't say I don't find it amusing."

"Oh Merlin." Harry groaned. "Remind me not to let Ron near him."

Hermione laughed with a fond look in her eyes.

Harry wondered at it. He would have expected Hermione to be scathing of the thought of Ron's actions. He guessed it was just one of the things that were different now that the pair were dating. Harry wondered if Hermione thought he was as different. It was one of the things that had worried him when he was in the past, whether he and his friends would be too different to still be compatible. If Tom had somehow corrupted him. So far, there weren't many differences, but it would take more than one conversation for them to really notice. He only hoped that if they had changed too much, that they could part amicably. He didn't want to live through another war. Not even a personal one.

There was a single knock on the door and it opened. Malfoy ushered in an incredibly confused Ron and Neville. "Mr Weasley and Mr Longbottom, sir," said Malfoy before bowing an leaving, shutting the door behind him.

"What the bloody hell was that?" asked Ron, staring at the door.

"What? No 'Hi Harry, how was your trip?'" Harry smirked.

As though suddenly coming to himself, the red drained from Ron's face and an enormous grin overtook it. "Harry!" He threw his arms around his friend's neck, almost strangling him in the process. "Thank Merlin you're alive!"

Harry laughed with what little air he had before prying Ron's arms away. "That's more like it," he said, standing and returning Ron's embrace properly. He locked eyes with Neville and gave him a hug, too. "It's good to see you."

"We've missed you, Harry," said Neville.

"I hear you got into enough trouble without me around," said Harry.

"I have to say," said Neville. "I do like Voldemort a lot more now that you're back."

Harry laughed.

Ron made a face. "Can we please make a pact to never talk about Harry and Voldemort?" Ron turned to Harry. "No offence, mate, but it's gross."

"Can we talk about me and Tom Riddle?" asked Harry.

Ron's unpleasant face returned. "No!"

"I have to say," said Harry. "I don't feel nearly as worried about someone stealing him away than when he was Tom Riddle."

"Too much information," said Ron, covering his ears and shutting his eyes.

Sensing that the boys would continue talking in circles unless someone stopped them, Hermione said, "So Ron, what did Lucius want you to do?"

"Tell our parents that it's okay to come out of hiding," said Ron.

"They thought it might be better if we told them," Said Neville. "So they'd believe us."

"And did they?" asked Harry.

"Yes and no," said Neville. "Obviously my parents weren't in any state to know better."

"And my parent are still a little disbelieving."

Neville scoffed. Harry didn't think he'd ever seen him do that before. "His parents are beyond furious with us for going to Hogwarts at the beginning of term. We have to give them some kind of proof before they launch some kind of full-frontal assault in the name of saving us."

It occurred to Harry that part of what Ron and Neville must have told the Weasleys to convince them must have been his relationship with Voldemort. He couldn't imagine how that could have gone over well. "I'm surprised they even let the two of you come back," said Harry.

"Only because Hermione's here," said Ron. "And you, too, if they believe us."

"And they didn't send anyone else with you?"

"They tried," said Neville.

"Fred and George were dead keen, but of course mum couldn't bear to lose any more kids. Dad was out, too."

"And we ran out before anyone else could volunteer," said Neville.

"How are we going to give them proof?" asked Harry. "I don't think Voldemort would like it much if I left him here and your parents held me hostage."

"Which is what we tried to explain to mum," said Ron.

"But that just made it worse since she thought that meant we were lying and that you were really locked in his dungeon or dead."

"I think Mrs Weasley thought we were Inferi ourselves," said Neville. "As though we looked like ourselves but weren't behaving at all correctly."

"I thought she would have gotten used to that after last time," said Hermione.

"What happened?" asked Harry.

"We spent all summer looking for horcruxes," said Ron. "Mum would have preferred it if we'd stayed with them."

"So it's the same story, really," said Harry.

"Let's take a photo together," said Hermione.

"Or maybe a hundred," said Ron. "Otherwise mum will think we forged them somehow. She's so suspicious. And I thought she was suspicious when I was actually lying."

"We don't have a camera," said Neville.

"I'm sure Malfoy can find us one," said Harry. "I'd better ask him now. The sooner we get this done the less your mum will worry."

"I'll ask him," said Hermione, standing up.

Ron and Neville's jaws dropped and Harry was surprised by their silence. "What's going on?" he asked, looking at Hermione, who was just grinning at Ron.

"Hermione, you can walk!" said Ron.

Harry frowned. Why should that have been a surprise?

"It started last night," Hermione said, as Ron walked over to her and swept her into a hug. "I think Voldemort did it when he shocked me. When I woke up this morning I was pretty sure I could walk, but I didn't want to get your hopes up so I didn't test it until after you'd left."

"Hold on," said Harry. "Why shouldn't Hermione have been able to walk?"

"It happened the night Dumbledore died," said Hermione. "A lot of curses were flying around Hogwarts and I got hit by one. No one could figure out how to reverse it."

"So, last night what happened?" asked Harry.

"I said something Voldemort didn't agree with and he shocked me," said Hermione. She saw the look on Harry's face and hurriedly added, "It didn't really hurt. It was just to get my attention. More of a threat than anything. But I felt it in my legs and I hadn't been able to feel anything in months."

"How did you get around?" asked Harry.

"I had a very good levitating spell handy," said Hermione.

"She got really good at it," said Ron, smiling fondly at Hermione whom he hadn't yet managed to let go.

Harry smiled. "Well I'm glad you're up and about. Voldemort would have had no idea what hit him if you weren't alright."

Hermione returned the smile. "Let's take those photos now that we've all got something to smile about."

Malfoy fetched them a camera and showed them to an informal dining room where their lunch was set up. After lunch, Malfoy became their photographer and the Gryffindors made a game of trying to find the positions and expressions that would most irritate Malfoy, without being too scandalous for Molly Weasley's eyes. They posed with Malfoy portraits and with the albino peacocks in the garden and nearly everywhere in between. Malfoy never batted an eyelash except to call out a countdown to each photograph. Harry found it unnerving. It was as though Malfoy had been lobotomised.

The house elves printed the photos for them and Ron was quick to take them back to his parents, leaving Neville to keep Hermione company. She still wasn't officially enrolled back at Hogwarts, so for now she would be staying in the Manor.

Ginny and Luna showed up after classes were over that day.

"Since when do the professors just let you walk out of Hogwarts?" asked Harry.

Ginny shrugged. "It's easy if you just walk into the headmaster's office and tell him Voldemort sent for you."

"Did Professor Snape actually believe that?" asked Hermione.

"Probably not," said Ginny. "He just told us to be back in time for classes tomorrow." Ginny rolled her eyes. "It's not as if we can learn anything with the Carrows in charge."

"If Snape's the headmaster," said Harry. "Can't he just get rid of them?"

"I think we all know who the real headmaster of Hogwarts is," said Ginny.

The others all turned to look at Harry.

"I'll ask," said Harry. "But I can't just go around telling him what to do all the time. We've got to at least have a suggestion for another teacher."

"The Carrows wouldn't be so bad if they weren't literally torturing us," said Neville. He, Ginny and Luna were all quiet for a moment.

"Aside from their hatred of Muggles and Muggle-borns," said Hermione.

"You weren't there," said Ginny to Harry. "You don't know."

"I get it," said Harry. "It's number one on the list."

There was a distinct devilish spark in Ginny's eyes. "Even if he doesn't," she said. "We're going to make sure they're gone."

Harry just being back inspired them to do more than they'd ever done before. It was a little worrying for Harry to realise he had that much power. He'd never felt powerful before. The biggest rush he'd gotten was the night he'd cast a Patronus for the first time.

The friends spent the rest of the evening playing exploding snap and catching up on everything else they could think of.

Eventually Voldemort came to seek out Harry, looking almost shy as he was introduced. Harry hadn't really been expecting Voldemort to like them, but he managed to compliment Neville for giving the Carrows hell, and Hermione for taking control the previous day. He also told Ginny and Luna that he admired the way they'd stood up to the torture they'd gone through while looking for Hermione. Harry bid his friends goodbye and the two of them headed back to their rooms. It was difficult to deny that Voldemort was a different person around Harry, when he was carefully tucked under Voldemort's arm. It was strange, but comforting, the way Harry had already adjusted to life here with Voldemort.

x X X x

A/N: Don't leave reviews. I haven't read them in years. Wow, I think that's literally true. WHY AM I STILL WRITING THIS?


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